


Sugardancy

by merrythoughts, ReallyMissCoffee



Category: Hannibal (TV) RPF
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Anal Fingering, Background Het, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, College Student Hugh, Crossdressing Kink, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Drunk hookup, Eventual relationship, Fantasizing, Flirting, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hugh is 20, Humiliation/Embarrassment Kink, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, Lingerie, M/M, Mads is 39, Masturbation, Premature Ejaculation, Roleplay Logs, Sex Toys, Smoking, Spanking, Sugar Daddy, kinda slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-03-11 08:22:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 74,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrythoughts/pseuds/merrythoughts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReallyMissCoffee/pseuds/ReallyMissCoffee
Summary: "I'm... I'm not a--" he begins, and there's a definite flush to his face at thethought. Christ, really? The heat to Hugh's cheeks isn't all embarrassment. Some of it is anger. "That's... that's not why I-- Christ, isthatwhy you thought..." Hugh trails off and eases himself back down onto the bed, reaching up to rub gingerly at his face. "I don'tneedyour bloody money."[Pure trash. A Madancy sugar daddy sorta-slowburn AU  ♥]





	1. Morning, sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> So, who got ReallyMissCoffee into Madancy? I did~~~ Originally posted on tumblr, but we decided to clean it up, edit, and post it here from now on. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 
> 
> Pure fiction. No disrespect toward the actual actors. 
> 
> **Disclaimer** : This is another merrythoughts & ReallyMissCoffee production. In case you don't know us, just a heads up: this is written first and foremost as an alternating roleplay between us which doesn't necessarily translate smoothly into an easily digestible or traditional fic format. At times we can be pretentious, repetitive and annoyingly wordy, but we're not going to change so please forgo any "constructive criticism" regarding the format. We are choosing to share our work and if you like it, you like it, if not, press the back button and try something else as we have no interest in attempting to fic-ify our stories.
> 
> Mads written by Merry ([tumblr](http://merrythought.tumblr.com)) | Hugh written by ReallyMissCoffee ([tumblr](http://reallymisscoffee.tumblr.com/))

Well, he's not hungover, but Mads can't say the same for the pretty young thing sharing his California King-sized bed. Despite the late night, Mads generally tries to keep to his schedule. He's turning forty this year and his body doesn't let him forget it. No matter how many laps he swims or how often he cycles, there's still a softness to his belly. Well, he's never been interested in the popular six pack anyway. He knows he looks good, even with the silver in his hair. He's not vain enough to dye his own hair anyway. Fuck that. He's not ashamed of having lived and aged.

As it's not even seven in the morning, Mads sees no reason to wake... Hugh. Yeah. Hugh was his name. British. Aspiring actor. Artist. Over from London, studying here in New York. Sarcastic and obviously doing the "struggling artist" thing because he seemed more than happy to let Mads buy him drink after drink once they left the school function Hugh had been working at.

So, Mads climbs out of bed carefully. They hadn't _done_ much last night, but that is okay. He's not normally in the habit of taking young men home (shit, did he even ask how old Hugh was?), but he’s a sucker for bright blue eyes and the honest enthusiasm Hugh had shown. It had reminded him of when he used to dance. Shit, that felt like a lifetime ago...

Mads sees his suit from last night casually tossed on the floor and he steps around it. Thank God for the maid. He hates doing laundry. He chooses comfy black track pants and a bright neon yellow athletic shirt for his cycling attire and in less than ten minutes, he's out the door of his rather lavish three story home. The morning is crisp and the physical exercise helps wake him up in the best possible way.

An hour and a half later he's back, showered, and only wearing black Frigo boxers -- it's his home after all. When he walks back into the bedroom, Mads digs out his wallet from his dress pants. Hugh seems to be stirring as Mads counts out... Well, he doesn't know the going rate for this type of thing. Hugh _had_ spent the night, but the only physical thing that had transpired had been kissing, groping and then Hugh giving him a blowjob. $200? $300? Sure. Mads pulls the bills out and places them by the nightstand next to Hugh.

"Morning, sunshine," Mads says casually as he sits next to Hugh on the edge of the bed.

* * *

The first thing that Hugh is aware of when he stirs that morning is that his head feels like it's being crushed by vice grips and his mouth tastes like death. It's only due to a strong constitution that he manages to choke back the urge to vomit, though it takes him a long few minutes to breathe through it, dragging in sharper breaths of colder air in order to try and ease his stomach. He turns his face against the pillow close by and while he does register that there's something _wrong_ with it, his goal is to keep the light from making his headache worse. His mind is a whirl of drunken confusion, which is odd, as Hugh isn't typically one to drink to excess. He's only gotten _drunk_ to this level a few times before and only because his mates had been shoplifting gits.

He doesn't register much as he slowly pieces his body back together, wiggling his fingers and sleepily kicking off the blankets that have climbed high to his throat. It's only when the pounding in his head has been controlled by deep breathing and the churning of nausea in his stomach has abated that he begins to realize that something really _is_ wrong. It's slow going, but it doesn't take him too long to realize that this isn't his bed. It takes him longer than he'd have liked, but Hugh doubts he can be blamed. He hasn't gotten used to his bed at the dorm yet and he's not a bloody prick. He doesn't _need_ silken sheets and Egyptian cotton. Regular cotton works fine.

That's not what he's laying down on, though, and the knowledge draws him up short. As Hugh slowly risks cracking his eye open, he realizes that there's a slightly familiar taste on the back of his tongue. Really, _that_ is what helps him piece together a few hours of the night before better than anything. He tastes come and while he briefly wishes to kick himself for not insisting on a condom, what's done is done. His jaw is a little sore and hey, look at that. Two and two make four.

He's just made his peace with the concept that he'd apparently blown a guy last night when he hears the sound of someone entering the bedroom. Slow, sluggish (maybe a little hesitant because he doesn't generally _do_ this) Hugh sleepily turns over, lifting a hand to block out the sun as he looks over and squints at... someone. He remembers him a little, an older guy at the art exhibit.

Hugh blinks slowly. He remembers drinks and the vague rumbling of a car engine and that the guy is a good kisser but that's about it for now. Slightly embarrassed but still feeling sick, he props himself up on one elbow and gingerly shifts. His ass doesn't hurt. That's something. Still, before he can ask anything important (like the guy's _name_ ) Hugh catches sight of the nightstand and he frowns. Curious at first, then less so, he blinks and then glances at his companion.

"What's--... uh. Yeah. Morning. What's _that?_ "

* * *

Mads isn't shy while looking Hugh over, or at least what he can see. Even with the hangover and in the process of waking up, the kid is adorable. Kid? Yeah, why not. Even with the light stubble and the distinctly adult voice, compared to Mads, the guy's a kid. He's at least ten years his junior anyway. A kid. He won't call him that, of course. Youth these days always felt like they had something to prove and didn't like their inexperience being pointed out.

When the _money_ is pointed out, Mads raises one pale eyebrow. It's not that Mads believes Hugh _is_ a prostitute - at least not in the professional sense. He does believe that young Hugh is a student who is struggling with his finances. Most students do. After all, international tuition fees are very costly and that doesn’t even factor in the cost of _living_ in NY. Mads simply thinks Hugh is the type that, upon having the interest of an older well-off man, wouldn't mind having a little monetary compensation for his time.

Does Mads ever _need_ to pay for company? No. But perhaps this is simply a good deed. More charity from his pocket book, as it were. He already donated to the school's art program, so why not one of its students? It’s probably money better spent, anyway.

"It's currency. Money," Mads answers and at seeing a pack of smokes (not his, but who cares, he just gave Hugh $300), he reaches over and slides one out. He lights it and takes an inhale. The brand is cheap, but it hardly matters. The first one of the day is always the best. Or the one (or two) after a good fuck.

"Thought you could use it. I like supporting the arts and all."

* * *

Hugh knows what _money_ looks like. The issue with his (currently addled) train of thought is that he doesn't know _why_ it's there. He knows it's not his because after the spat a few months ago, Hugh doesn't have that much money to his name. Not even the job last night had netted him that much, and he'd been told it would be paid out to him within the week, so he doesn't have a few hundred to his name right now.

He's never been one to complain; he's not about to whinge that he's got cotton sheets or that he's been living off of boxed meals and cheap ramen. Just because he grew up with money doesn't mean he's an entitled brat, but seeing _that_ much money on display (a few hundred, and American at that) is still enough to catch his attention. He wonders for a few ridiculous moments if this man is attempting to tease him over his lack of current funds, but it isn't until Hugh watches him nick a smoke that he begins to understand. Then, because his life apparently isn't humiliating enough, the full implication hits him at the phrase _I like supporting the arts_.

At first Hugh just rests there, his head throbbing, his elbow going numb, and the smell of cheap cigarettes making him rethink his desire not to throw up. Then indignation finally remembers to take a stand and Hugh's brow pinches as he frowns at the guy. He doesn't remember a name, but he does remember it's foreign. Danish by the sound of the accent (Hugh's no idiot, all right?).

"I'm... I'm not a--" he begins, and there's a definite flush to his face at the _thought_. Christ, really? The heat to Hugh's cheeks isn't all embarrassment. Some of it is anger. "That's... that's not why I-- Christ, is _that_ why you thought..." Hugh trails off and eases himself back down onto the bed, reaching up to rub gingerly at his face. "I don't _need_ your bloody money."

* * *

Just because Mads has a lot of money, doesn't mean that he's frivolous with it. He works hard for his money. Granted, less so now than before, but he put in the hours and time to secure a good position where he _can_ pretty much work the days and hours he wants. The bills in his wallet may often be 100s, but that doesn't mean he's throwing them at just anyone.

Hugh had left a favorable impression. Mads had liked the passion to follow a dream across an ocean and what had seemed like against his family's wishes. Mads could admire a kid like that. He'd listened to Hugh go on and on about how acting made him feel and Mads could relate with his dancing.

And $300 would help Hugh out more than him. The look this kid gives him after a moment of working it all out is pretty damn murderous. The kid blushes but Mads can tell not all of it is simply from embarrassment. He's pissed off the guy too. It's too early for tantrums, so Mads smokes the cigarette and lets Hugh blow off his steam. Mads has always been a little too blunt at times and he supposes he could have led into it better...

"I thought you could use the money, not that you are a prostitute," Mads answers calmly. "While you were drinking you told me of your financial stresses and I have been thinking that I could help you out."

* * *

Yeah, that's it. That's the fastest way to make Hugh go from righteous indignation to embarrassment. The correction is quick and kind, all things considered. The guy sitting beside him doesn't react with offense, and he doesn't do anything but take a few drags on his lifted cigarette before correcting Hugh's assumption. But the anger that had been burning in Hugh's chest very quickly fizzles out. He wonders for a moment if there's a word for the feeling of losing one's balance while falling, only verbally. If there is, that's the way he feels immediately after his own assumption.

For a moment he considers stammering out an apology, but he is _way_ too hungover and fuck it, he apparently had this guy's dick in his mouth last night. That's apology enough, right? For the assumption, maybe, but for apparently spilling his _financial woes_ to a complete stranger? _That_ makes Hugh wince, and not entirely because of his hangover either.

The hangover does play a part, though. Stress and blood pressure equal an unhappy head.

He takes a moment to swallow back the threat of nausea again and though his head is pounding, he decides that laying back is not helping his 'trying-not-to-vomit' situation. So though he feels vaguely graceless (and like a slug, actually, a really sad, sick slug) he drags himself upright into a seated position, careless of his own near-nudity. He eyes his bare chest impassively just as he does his legs; his clothes are likely on the floor. But once he has a handle on his level of sick, it leaves Hugh struggling with the very real issue of what the fuck he's even doing right now.

At least the guy he'd gone home with is hot, in an unconventional and striking way, though he _is_ almost old enough to be Hugh's father. Maybe. He's kind of afraid to ask.

So instead he says, "oh," much quieter than he likely should and glances away, swallowing. Manners, Dancy.

"I... look, I, um. I appreciate it. But - _Hell_ , I'm too hungover for this - but I had no right to tell you any of that. I'm not looking for handouts, Sir. I can get by, even if it isn't as glamorous as.... all this. I don't know how you'd want to help me out, but I can't... I can't accept your money."

* * *

Mads supposes that one good thing about getting older is his patience is much better now. He can handle Hugh getting all high and mighty about things. So far, anyway.... He's almost forty and he has a mostly-naked youth in his bed. It's certainly not the craziest scenario he's heard of. Mads continues to smoke, the rush of nicotine soothing.

Well, at least they didn't fuck. That's a positive, right? (Although Hugh passing out was probably the reason for nothing else having happened.) The guy had given him an enthusiastic (and sloppy) blow job, but sex with someone so young... Yeah, Mads isn't about to inquire on Hugh's age anytime soon. Hopefully mid to late twenties…

Thankfully, his answer seems to calm Hugh some. Mads isn't too concerned about possibly offending the kid. He's not stupid, he knows how it had _looked_. A stranger giving you money after a night spent together and swapping some spit and come? Yeah, it had looked like Mads had been offering to pay him for the blow job.

The kid looks more than a little hungover from the night before. Mads hopes his guest doesn't vomit because Juliana, his maid, surely wouldn't appreciate being called in a day early to deal with throw up. Mads warily watches as Hugh sit up. No vomiting so far. Phew. What surprises Mads is Hugh's _apology_ about sharing his financial situation, like opening up is something to be bothered about--

But no, wait, _what_? _Sir?_ Did the kid really? Fuck.

"Excuse me? Sir? You slept in my bed and sucked my cock but now I'm 'Sir'?'" Mads snorts and stands up, shaking his head. He's disgruntled as he walks over to the large bay windows, gazing at the neighborhood through the small crack between the drapes.

"I'm guessing you aren't trying to be formal, but just forgot my name? It's Mads. And _Hugh_ , you're welcome to use the shower and grab whatever to eat or drink."

He's not about to push the kid into taking his money. If Hugh is too uptight or proud, so be it. Mads takes another drag on the cigarette before glancing back at the brunet.

* * *

Hugh _feels_ like he's gotten that statement out properly. He feels like he's managed to at least make his protest understood with as much dignity as is possible, especially considering he's mostly-naked and hungover next to a guy who's smoking his cigarettes and looking just shy of amused. But instead of focusing on what he's _supposed_ to be focusing on, it doesn't take the other guy too long to repeat the word 'Sir' and Hugh can feel the cringe welling up from deep within him, embarrassment twisting hot and sharp through him. He tries valiantly to hold the older man's gaze but fails in a few seconds, finding a small thread on the bedspread _infinitely_ more interesting even if he does watch as _Mads_ (fuck, right, that was it) walks to the window.

Squirming a little, his face definitely red, Hugh makes a small sound in the back of his throat and bends over just enough to press both of his hands over his eyes. He digs the heels of his hands against his eyes and breathes through the lingering sickness. Everything hurts, and he wonders just how much he'd had to drink the night before. Too bloody much, is the answer.

"I... yes. I'm--" He cuts off, clears his throat gingerly, and then tries again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend. I can't... last night is a bit hazy in places. I _could have_ been trying to be formal, though. You _are_ older," he adds, though this protest is half-muttered and Hugh knows he sounds just shy of petulant. He's going to blame the hangover and the fact that he's in over his head here.

But the mention of a shower and coffee both sound wonderful. Tea sounds better, but tea in America is significantly different from the tea back home. Coffee is at least supposed to taste relatively bitter, but it seems like Americans thrive on making tea as weak as possible. So while Hugh feels graceless and sore, his head still pounding, he does take the offered out. Maybe moving this fast is a bad idea, but he doesn't know what to _do_ in the house of a guy who had tried to pay him for spending the night. Maybe not _that_ way, granted, but Hugh doesn't know what other way it could have been.

Pushing himself to the edge of the bed, Hugh breathes deep, and awkwardly manages to get his feet under him as he stands. He glances over at Mads (making a silent mental note to try and find out where an odd name like that originates from) and for a moment, his gaze does linger. He's hot, his hair a damp, messy tousle and his body rather fit despite a slight softness to the middle. For just an impulsive, ridiculous moment, he considers offering to stay to form a few new memories, but he's hungover and he needs to get back to the dorm as soon as he can.

"Thank you, though. I will take you up on that. The shower is... just through there?" Hugh asks, eyes still squinted against the light coming in through the bay windows, but he gestures off to the door left slightly-ajar.

* * *

Mads is pretty sure he told the kid his name _before_ Hugh got liquored up. There's no way he would have taken a pretty young thing in his car and then to a bar _without_ giving his name... But Hugh is waking up and probably stunned by the offer of money _and_ also hungover. Still. It kinda pisses Mads off. He's not the type to do anything sexual with someone who doesn't know his goddamn name at the very least. He's not a sleaze.

Mads tries his best to not let his agitation show _too much._ The kid squirms around on the bed and rubs at his eyes. Hugh definitely needs a shower and to get something else into his stomach. He hopes Hugh will take up this offer at the very least and _not_ run out like a dog with its tail between its legs. Mads doesn't let any strong expression show on his face as Hugh points out that he is older. Mads is well aware that he's older, thanks.

Hugh gets out of bed. Still no vomiting. Very good. For a moment Hugh seems to be checking him out or appraising him. Mads doesn't know. He just stands and casually smokes the stolen cigarette. When Hugh is done looking he asks about the shower and while Mads could point Hugh to the guest bathroom, he doesn't exactly care if the kid uses his shower.

"Yeah, right through there. Use whatever you want," Mads replies. When Hugh ambles to the bathroom and the door is closed, Mads puts out his smoke in the closest ash tray and walks over to the money he'd pulled out. He collects it and looks down at the crisp bills. A quick glance on the floor and he locates Hugh's knapsack. When the shower starts, Mads is digging through the knapsack and stuffing the money into one of the many compartments. Maybe Hugh will find it, maybe he won't, but at least he has the money with him in case of an emergency or whatever.

Mads heads down to the main floor, still only in boxers, and begins a pot of coffee. He has a French press he could use but he doesn't feel like being fancy. He decides to make some scrambled eggs. Pinch of salt and pepper. Good stuff. Bacon...? Sure, some bacon. Everyone loves bacon. If the kid doesn't want breakfast, he'll have left overs. Fine with him.

* * *

To the guy's - Mads' - credit, he does his best to not look irritated, but Hugh's been around _way_ too many irritated older adults lately to miss the pinch to the corners of his eyes and the way his lips thin. It only makes it more obvious to him that he needs to get his ass out of here and relatively quickly, but getting back to the dorm with a hangover in the middle of New York seems like a recipe for trouble. If Hugh manages to avoid throwing up on a tourist, he'll consider it an okay trip.

So while he does keep his head down and while he does try to look as contrite as he can without going overboard, when the shower is pointed out to him, he says, "thank you, Mads," in an attempt to smooth ruffled feathers and then ambles to the bathroom.

Back home, his parents aren't exactly poor. His father is a philosophy professor and his mother works in academic publishing. He'd rarely _wanted_ for anything back home, though they hadn't been rolling in notes. Yet when Hugh steps into the bathroom and gingerly flicks the light on, he's immediately struck dumb as he looks around the room slowly. The bedroom had been bloody impressive but he'd been distracted and trying not to stare. He's alone in the bathroom and Hugh's jaw drops as he takes in the massive, custom-tiled walk-in shower and a huge soaker tub in the opposite corner. He walks close enough to see _jets_ in the tub and after a long few moments of gaping, he finally remembers that he's here for a reason.

Still a little stunned, his head aching more now that he's been looking at bright tile for the better part of four minutes, Hugh squints his way through using the bathroom and washing his hands. He looks around awkwardly for a toothbrush still in the wrapper, but in the end he just opts to use his finger because he isn't really about to overstay a welcome where he's _already_ pissed the guy off. It's half-assed, but it'll do. He doesn't shave (not that he needs to do it anyway with how slow hair comes in) and after fiddling with the shower for a while, the spray is strong and hot and Hugh strips down in order to step in

The shower is _heaven_. There's no other word for it. Hugh basks, letting the hot water chase the ache from his muscles. He relaxes slowly, the pounding in his head less, and while he does briefly consider the fact that he doesn't think he got off last night, he doesn't do anything about it. Again, rude. So he opens the shampoo and sniffs it before pouring some on his palms. He washes quick, and when he shuts the water off and dries himself off, looping the towel around his waist, he feels more like a human being.

Mads isn't in the room when Hugh slips out, which is probably for the best. The scent of cigarette smoke lingers and Hugh hastily gets dressed, though his clothes are wrinkled. He does what he can, buttoning his navy blue shirt and smoothing a hand over the slacks he'd been wearing the night before. It's only when he's got his backpack thrown over one shoulder that the smell of _food_ registers. Hugh grimaces; his stomach isn't sure what to make of it. He still steps out of the bedroom and - trying not to gape at the walls - he makes his way to the staircase and follows his nose into the kitchen. Mads, much to Hugh's internal delight, hasn't opted for clothes. Hugh swallows and, after an awkward moment, he shuffles into the kitchen and sets his bag down.

"Um... excuse me? My shoes. I can't remember; did I leave them by the front door?" God, nope, this close to the food, his stomach has a change of heart. The memory of all the ramen has caught up to him and he does his best to not resemble a hungry dog on the side of the road, with only minimal success.

* * *

Mads likes his place. It's nice. Sharp. Edgy, but still... contemporary? He thinks that's the word the interior decorators had used. He hadn't trusted himself to decorate or furnish his place. When he'd bought his own home, he knew he would be hiring someone to help him fill it. What did he know about art and the type of rugs that would work together? Nothing. That's what. Sure, he could _appreciate_ art and certain doors and whatnot. He liked bay windows and the look of stainless steel with the color black, but his preferences had simply been given to the interior decorators and he'd let the young couple go wild. It feels like home and it has what he needs.

Mads doesn't mind cooking. He's not a great chef by any means, but it can be relaxing to create something ingredient by ingredient. He doesn't like the preciseness needed to make extravagant dishes, so Mads prefers things that can be easily thrown together. Like seasoned scrambled eggs and bacon or pasta in a light sauce combined with grilled chicken and some fresh vegetables. He thinks he does decent enough for a single bachelor anyway.

A showered and dressed Hugh creeps down the stairs and then joins him in the kitchen in yesterday's clothes. Mads isn't surprised as he'd been tracking the sounds of the shower turning off and then footsteps.

"Well, you look more alive now," Mads comments with a grin. He's less irritated, the cooking having calmed him some. "Why not eat a bit before you run off?" Mads turns off the electric burners and assumes by the way the kid is eyeing the food that it's going to be a yes. He takes out two plates and begins dishing out eggs and bacon onto each one.

"And your shoes are by the front door." He figures they can eat at the kitchen island so he slides the two plates over with the appropriate utensils and then pours coffee. "Cream? Sugar? Milk? Honey?" The kid's British, he doesn't know what he wants in the coffee.

* * *

Hugh wishes he could claim some sort of dignity in the face of real food, but he's over a month into the semester. His financial aid has hit a bit of a roadblock due to his parents maintaining that he's still a dependent, and housing has been on his ass so much for cheques he doesn't have that most of his money has been going towards trying to pay for the single month. Food hasn't really been on his list of priorities. Half-off days at a local Pizzaria and an assortment of ramen have been helping him out, but _real food_ has been scarce. Oh, he bums a little off the other people in his housing complex and he goes to get togethers in order to dip into the communal reserves, but a real, home-cooked meal seems like heaven right now. So there's no dignity in the way Hugh's shoulders relax in relief at the offer, and before Mads can change his mind, he's nodding.

"Thank you."

Hugh looks around for a moment but after deciding that he's probably topped the _awkward_ limit already, he just walks in and waits to be shown where to sit. It doesn't take long and within a minute, he's by the island in the kitchen and trying not to rubber-neck his way around how extensive the place looks. Well, extensive and expensive, but he's not going there right now. Besides, it isn't too long until there's a plate of food in front of him and Hugh looks down at it with gratitude clear in his posture even if he doesn't intend for it to be noticeable. His stomach is still angry with him for the hangover, but he'll live.

The question has him reluctantly looking away from the food, and... right. Coffee. Hugh makes himself sit a little straighter and though his head is still throbbing, he does what he can to not look like he wants to wear sunglasses or an over-large hat. Instead he keeps his gaze generally downcast and nods.

"Cream and sugar, please." He swallows, wonders for the umpteenth time if he's imposing too much, and then dismisses it. Mads seems blunt enough. "I appreciate this. You didn't have to offer. It looks good," he adds, and the weight in his tone makes it sound more like _really good._

* * *

What does make cooking a more worthwhile task is sharing the final product with another. Mads would rather have someone else enjoy his efforts than to simply cook for himself. Of course, when sharing his cooking it opens himself up for possible negative feedback, but fuck 'em. Most people had the common decency to not complain about a home cooked meal in this day and age.

From Hugh's laments the night before, Mads knows the student isn't eating very much. And what he _has_ been putting in his mouth was shit like instant noodles. The least Mads can do is make sure Hugh has a good breakfast before he's on his way.

While Mads may be busying himself with preparing Hugh's coffee, he can see Hugh hungrily eyeing up the food in front of him. Mads is honestly pleased that scrambled eggs and bacon are being so well received.

"Why wouldn't I? It's no trouble. Cooking for myself already and company is nice," Mads answers as he places Hugh's mug of coffee in front of him. He has no idea how good a hungover kid’s company will be, but whatever. Too late now.

Mads scoops sugar in his own coffee, stirs it and then he's sitting down on a bar stool next to the kid. Hugh hasn't started eating yet. Probably an attempt to be polite.

"And I want you to know, if you ever need help, money or whatever, give me a call or text. I don't mind helping. No strings attached. I'll give you my card before you leave."

That said, Mads takes a drink of his coffee and then picks up his fork, shoveling eggs into his mouth. His good deeds done, he'll send Hugh off fed, with money hidden away and his number in case of an emergency.

* * *

Honestly Hugh isn't certain how _nice_ his company winds up being. He does try to at least be a little engaging, but when it comes down to it, he's hungover, he's exhausted, and he has absolutely no idea where he is. Last night, he'd apparently sucked this guy's cock and it's not like he can't understand _why_ , but he doesn't know where that leaves him now. So he tries to behave properly. He sticks to safe topics, or talks very little, and he _absolutely_ cleans his plate and drains his cup with more sounds of appreciation than he wants to admit.

It isn't crazy awkward, except his telling silence after Mads offers him his card when he's all set to leave. Stuffed with a good breakfast, still sore, Hugh looks at the business card and decides that it can't do much harm to take it. He won't call, he doesn't even know what to do with someone offering him so much money, but it'd be rude to refuse a goddamn business card. So Hugh takes the card and thanks him again, and then awkwardly asks him which way it is to the University. Mads offers him a cab, but he declines.

He leaves with the knowledge that he'll likely never see Mads Mikkelsen (thanks business card) again unless he visits another fundraiser. Still, Hugh slips the business card into his pocket, pats it, and then makes for the subway.

It isn't until that evening, when his hangover is gone and he's bent double over a fold-out table doing homework, that he realizes he'd left his cigarettes in Mads' bedroom. Hugh curses and mutters under his breath for awhile, but dismisses it quickly. They're not good for him anyway.

* * *

All in all, is not the worst "morning after." They eat, they talk a little - mostly Mads asking questions and Hugh politely answering. Once the plates are cleared and the coffee mugs empty, Mads considers having a smoke with the guy. He doesn't because he can see that Hugh is glancing toward where he thinks the front door is. Obviously Hugh wants to get going. And anyway, he suspects that Hugh isn't even a committed smoker, but the type that smokes while drinking or when stressed.

Before seeing him out, Mads does give Hugh a business card. Despite Hugh looking like he doesn't want to take it, he does. Mads doubts Hugh will ever look him up and get back in touch (for help or otherwise) but it doesn't hurt to give Hugh the option. At least they are both on the same page - they don't kiss. They both know last night was a drunken hookup (even if only _one_ of them technically got off). Mads says goodbye, locks up, and does the dishes.

He wonders what it's like to be following a dream. Other than the stressful and struggling with finances bit, that is. When he had been younger, Mads had briefly thought about studying dancing. But dancing wasn't practical, so he'd went to university instead. And now he needn't worry for anything - except the what if's.


	2. Why me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s simple. He needs. Mads can offer. But ultimately Mads is the one with all the cards. Hugh shifts uneasily; it’s not that he really thinks Mads would suggest… but then, he doesn’t _know_ the guy. Realizing this, 'Mr. Mikkelsen’ seems knowingly respectful. Hugh glances away, lips thin, and so he misses the immediate grimace that jumps to Mads’ lips. He’s just gearing himself up to think of another question that sounds less like 'how often do I need to get on my knees for this?’ when Mads chimes in, sounding exasperated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (♥ω♥ ) ~♪ lala Hugh gets wet and owned. Mads to the rescue!
> 
> Mads written by Merry ([tumblr](http://merrythought.tumblr.com)) | Hugh written by Dapperscript ([tumblr](http://reallymisscoffee.tumblr.com/))

He thinks about Hugh a few times over the next few weeks. Just brief thoughts, mostly concern. Mads hopes that his money is discovered and put to good use.

One day, over lunch he tells a closer friend and colleague about what had happened. Phil looks at him and gives him a sly grin, muttering about mid-life crises.

“At least it wasn’t a sports car,” Mads insists.

“I envy you. If I swung both ways, I’d be out alternating genders every weekend just to keep things interesting.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say.” Mads grins. Truthfully he’s glad that his bisexuality is apparently cause for envy. Not that he is doing anything like Phil is talking about – alternating genders or whatever. Silly. It doesn’t work like that.

“In the long run a car is probably cheaper than a sugarbaby,” Phil shoots back.

“Sugar _what_?” Mads is pretty sure he has no idea what Phil is going on about.

“Look it up, man!”

Mads looks it up later on an incognito tab. Huh. Interesting…

* * *

He finally breaks down three days later and pulls Mads’ business card out from his pocket. Hugh does a quick Google search, only feeling mildly sleazy, but he’s not exactly prepared for what he sees.

He’d known that Mads had to have money, but he’d assumed either inheritance or something high-brow like an artist or actor given he’d been supporting the arts. He’d _not_ been expecting him to be one of the leading names in advertising. Hugh pauses, his jaw dropping a little when the Wikipedia article _helpfully_ points out the guy’s net worth, and for the rest of the week, Hugh has a recurring moment now and then when he remembers that _he_ sucked the guy’s dick.

* * *

He doesn’t call for a full two weeks because he isn’t going to call, but that doesn’t mean that when things come crashing down, he isn’t tempted to.

By the time Hugh’s called in to talk to the housing manager, he’s remembered most of what happened the other night. The conversation isn’t particularly pretty, though he does make an effort to remain polite. Apparently given that he’s an international student and given that his parents are still _technically_ allowed to assist him even if they aren’t, and adding to that the fact he has little to no credit rating to speak of, the bottom line is simple.

He can’t stay in the dorms. There are other students who need the room, and they have already pre-paid. He’s given a ‘reassuring’ talk after to speak to his classmates about finding an apartment close to campus, or advertising for a roommate, but it goes in one ear and out the other.

Hugh goes to class because it’s scheduled and there’s nothing else he can do. He sits through the lecture without hearing it, and when he leaves, he hasn’t done anything else other than write the date on his notebook.

He stays in the library until he can’t anymore and then he retreats to his dorm room. Technically he has a week to move out but, irritated with his whole bloody lot in life, Hugh drops to his knees, grabs his backpack, and gets to packing. He doesn’t really have a lot to his name other than a few changes of clothes, his laptop, his school books, and old ramen, which he leaves behind because there’s no room in his bag and the two overnight bags he slings over his shoulder.

There’s no real conscious decision on his part to wander to a specific part of town, but he finds himself heading to the west side just the same. It’s raining (of course it’s bloody raining) and nothing has really _hit_ him yet. Not yet. It isn’t until a car zips by and hits an unseen puddle that then sends a cascade of dirty water over his thin fall jacket that Hugh feels the first crack in his armor. He coughs, he swears, he shivers - it’s dark out, and it’s autumn and it’s cold - and Hugh reaches into his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe the water from his face. But as he does, something else falls out of his pocket and he doesn’t even have to look at it to _know_.

It takes him two minutes to make a decision, and then he’s flipping the card over and reading the back for the address.

* * *

Hugh shows up on the huge doorstep an hour later, wet, rather dejected and pissed. He’s tired and he feels like an absolute idiot, but his dignity is back in the puddle that had washed it away. So he reaches up to rub a hand over his face, shakes as much of the water from his jacket as he can, and hesitates only a few seconds before he lifts a hand and knocks at the door. Then, unsure if it had been loud enough, he reaches over, rings the doorbell, and tries not to feel like an absolute git.

* * *

When a knock comes, Mads is in comfy gray sweatpants and an orange zip-up hoodie. He’s freshly showered and back from the pool. The Doors are playing on his stereo and he’s lounging on the couch with a tablet on his lap, catching up over boring shit like the news.

He hopes it’s not the guys with some surprise to kidnap him to go out. It’s Thursday. Going out is for the weekends (god, he’s getting old…).

Mads gets up, turns down the stereo and makes his way to the front door. After unlocking the door, he opens it and there’s Hugh looking pretty rough. Also he’s accompanied by a duffel bag by his feet. Huh. Couldn’t pay for housing, it would seem.

“Well, hello, little one. You’re looking rather wet and sad,” Mads says and gestures with his hand for Hugh to come in.

* * *

As it often does, life comes rushing up in a sudden wave as soon as Hugh’s hand falls away from the doorbell. He honestly freezes and then realizes where he is and what he’s doing. A little dignity tries to flare and he does give serious consideration to just booking it and running, but he doesn’t. Albeit slim, there is a small chance that Mads might remember him and take pity on him if he looks pitiful enough. He certainly feels pitiful enough, that’s for damn sure. All he needs is a night to think so he can figure out where to go from there. If he had any friends in America, he’d have called them, but as he doesn’t, this is his only option except the street.

So he’s there when the door is opened, though he’s half-turned away as if he’s considering running still. Dejected, exhausted, and worried as fuck over what to even _do_ , when Mads opens the door and sees him, Hugh glances over at him. His mouth is already open to launch into an explanation, quick and hasty, but his voice dies on the first note when he takes in what the guy is _wearing_. His eyebrows climb up. He’d seen Mads in a nice suit at the fundraiser, and then in sinfully tight and soft black boxers the next morning. This is…

 _This_ makes Hugh’s soaked jacket and jeans look like he’s a bloody model.

“What are you–” he begins, and then immediately cuts himself off by physically biting his tongue. Flushing, realizing that he can’t afford to piss Mads off, Hugh swallows and looks down at the grey sweatpants and the hem of the orange hoodie. Mads looks like an inverted pumpkin, but given that Hugh looks like a drowned rat, maybe he doesn’t have any room to judge. No, screw that, he has absolutely no room to judge.

Thankfully either he’d been too quiet for Mads to hear, or Mads doesn’t care about what Hugh had almost said. He’s invited in and Hugh scoffs softly at what Mads says. _Wet and sad_ is accurate, though he does shoot the older man a small scowl at being called 'little one’. Again, the expression only lingers as long as it takes for Hugh to remember his situation and then it smooths out. Silently he steps into the house, mindful of the way he’s still dripping from the rain, and he immediately slips his bags from his shoulder with a soft grunt and then drops to his knees. He brushes as much pooled rain from the vinyl as he can and unzips his bags, relieved that whatever moisture had seeped through had only dampened his changes in clothing and not his textbooks or his sketch pads or books. His shoulders relax a little and he sighs, rubbing at his face.

Then, finally, Hugh wearily pushes himself to his feet and chances a small look up. He looks visibly exhausted and frustrated, and he’s sure he looks humiliated, but he doesn’t have time for that.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me,” he begins, then jumps topic. Best to get it out in the open now. “Would… Look, I know you’ve got no reason to– You don’t have to help. But if you have a couch I could sleep on, or even a blanket or something for the floor– Just for one night. I- my financial aid isn’t… I can’t stay at the dorms. I just need a night to get my head on straight and I’ll be out of your hair.” He swallows.

“Please.”

* * *

Wet, sad and judgmental. Mads adds the last word to the list. He can tell by Hugh’s reaction that he hadn’t been expecting _him_ to be dressed as such. Mads may have money, he may have many stylish suits, a few tuxedos, nice shit he can wear out on dates – but he doesn’t exactly _like_ or _prefer_ to be dressed up. When given the choice, Mads is found in in sportswear, in cargo pants, sweatpants, hoodies, bright colors – stuff that feels nice and is comfortable. Stuff that breathes. And he doesn’t care about matching in the least. He has to care about that kind of thing when going to work, when going out. It’s a chore.

Well, he’s been a little more carefree at work, not bothering with a tie, not bothering about the suit jacket necessarily matching the slacks… So far he’s got away with it.

The kid looks like he’s about to give some smartass remark, but then thinks better of it. Good. Kid has some common sense then. Sure Mads knows he probably looks a bit ridiculous, but who cares? He’s not hurting anyone. Life is too short to worry about matching and if the neon orange or yellow is too bright. (Get some sunglasses.)

Hugh enters the house looking down on his luck in all ways. Mads locks the door and comes to observe Hugh going through his bags, seeming to check on the contents to ensure they haven’t been soaked. Before Mads can ask about the problem, Hugh jumps on it and more or less explains his situation. And even says please at the end. Mads knows it can’t be easy to ask an almost stranger for help so he wastes no time in giving Hugh a pat on the shoulder before he picks up one of Hugh’s bags.

“'Course you can stay, that’s why I gave you my card,” Mads states. “And in the guest bedroom. That’s what it’s for. None of this floor or couch shit. Follow me.”

No reason to talk here in the entryway while Hugh is wet and cold. Mads leads the way to the guest bedroom. It’s also on the second floor, down the hall from Mads’ own room. He opens the door and places the duffel bag down, flicking on the lights.

“Here you are,” Mads comments.

The room is large, the bed a queen. It’s bold, two walls painted a darker grey and the other two a dreary orange. From the style of the furniture, furnishings and decor it’s clearly decorated with the intent of bringing across a Halloween or macabre theme.

“Ehhh… If this is too much, there’s another guest room… I like Halloween?” Mads shrugs as he glances around, suddenly questioning if he should have offered Hugh this guest room first.

* * *

Hugh has never been one to beg. He hasn’t had to. He’s polite enough and he works hard, and whenever impulsiveness or recklessness does touchdown, he usually makes amends before he needs to ask for forgiveness. So he bites back his comments and he just decides to ask. Honestly, were he in Mads’ situation, he might have let the moment stretch on longer. After all, Hugh had been so damn adamant that he didn’t _need_ help just two weeks ago. He wouldn’t have blamed him for gloating.

Mads doesn’t gloat. Instead he responds almost immediately, one of his hands patting Hugh’s shoulder before he reaches for the bags. Hugh tenses; he isn’t used to being helped this way either but he doesn’t argue. Instead the look he sends Mads is just shy of awed gratitude and he swallows back a slightly ridiculous sound that wants to slip out. He nods jerkily and toes off his shoes in the doorway. Everything is soaked, but he still slips off his jacket and hangs it up, then rubs the sleeves of his shirt quickly over his hair in an effort to keep it from dripping on Mads’ expensive floor. Hugh gathers his bags and doesn’t protest that he’ll be able to sleep in a bed instead of on the floor. He just slings his two remaining bags over his shoulder and hurries to keep up.

The room he’s led to is very… festive. That’s the word that Hugh settles on as he looks around. The bed looks heavenly but the walls are very orange and almost black. He glances at Mads and notes the similar color scheme to his clothing, but you know what?

“It’s fine,” he says on a small rush, almost breathless. Beggars can’t be choosers, and if a Halloween color scheme is the worst he has to contend with tonight, he considers himself lucky. “Really. I like Halloween. This is… more than I was expecting. Much more. You don’t know me from Adam - not really - but you’re letting me stay. I’m not a chav. I’m grateful.”

Hugh walks over to the queen and immediately sets his bags down next to the bed, looking around at the more gothic style to the furniture and the decorations. Maybe it’ll be a little disconcerting to sleep here, but it would have been far worse on the street. Hugh turns to face Mads, reaching up again to wipe at his face with his sodden red sleeve.

“Thank you. Seriously. I’ll… do my best to be out of here by morning.”

* * *

Hugh may be worried about eating his words from a few weeks ago, but Mads doesn’t exactly care. He’s not petty enough to tease Hugh about it, anyway. After all, Hugh hadn’t wanted his money and if he’s here now, he probably hasn’t found it. Mads honestly believes Hugh _wants_ to get by without help and he can appreciate the kid’s tenacity. Actually, it’s probably why he’s willing to help.

His Halloween/gothic horror style room had been his little pet project. Mads had told the decorators what he wanted and they specifically hunted for the type of decor and furniture that would bring the room alive. Other than his brother, Mads has never had anyone stay in it. He doesn’t exactly know why he offered it up to Hugh. There’s a much more conventional guest room on the main floor that would have worked.

Maybe a part of him hoped Hugh would find the room kind of cool, or at least unique. It definitely has the more obscure art hanging on the walls and trinkets on the dressers. As Hugh is also an artist, Mads had thought maybe he would appreciate it.

But Hugh looks fine with it. Not amazed, but not bothered. He supposes it’s good enough.

“I know enough,” Mads supplies with a shoulder shrugging as he moves to the doorway to allow Hugh more room. “You’re a chatty thing while drunk, but you probably don’t remember. And stay as long as you need to. I doubt you will be able to arrange something suitable within a night.”

* * *

In truth, Hugh does like the room. He’s stressed out and it’s late so the full effect doesn’t really strike him as it should but he can tell at a glance that when he’s able to think straight, he’ll like the place. Right now he’s just so damn relieved that he has a place to stay if only for a night. He’s exhausted, his mind is spinning, and he’s soaking wet, so maybe he’s being a little dismissive but at least he’s not being ungrateful.

The urge to just collapse in bed is strong, but he feels cold and he can feel the grit from the muddy water he’d been splashed with all over his face. He needs to clean up, which means he needs to ask. It’s bad enough that he’s imposing like this. He doesn’t need to make it worse. But the question feels knocked out of his hands when Mads just oh-so-helpfully chimes in that he’s a _chatty thing_ when he’s drunk. Hugh just blinks at him this side of dumbly and the heat that settles on his face and around the back of his neck feels ridiculously unfair given Hugh’s current lot in life.

“I’m… I shouldn’t have told you any of that; it’s hardly your problem,” he manages after a few long seconds of embarrassed silence. Christ, he _feels_ wet and sad now more than he had upon arriving. Hugh glances down and stares vaguely at his feet for a moment. There’s a hole in the toe of his sock. Somehow it just seems like such an extra little kick while he’s already down that it seems _hilarious._ He doesn’t laugh, but he considers it.

“I don’t want to impose. I’ll be out of here as soon as I can, and I’ll try to stay out of your way in the meantime.”

He means to sound firm; he doesn’t. Instead he just sounds tired. “Can I, um… can I use your shower? Some idiot splashed me with his car on the way in here.”

* * *

Mads wonders if the whole “it’s so wrong that I shared my personal problems” thing is a cultural quirk or just a Hugh thing. Maybe it’s how the kid was raised, but he hadn’t minded Hugh opening up to him. If anything, he’d liked it and it hadn’t all been complaining or worrying from Hugh. But Mads isn’t about to go and retell what he all remembers because Hugh is blushing and seems to take Mads’ comment as something to be embarrassed or flustered about.

“You’re not imposing, I offered to help, so let me help. It’s not a big deal.”

Mads gives a half smile and another shrug. He’s not exactly knowledgeable on how to be supportive in this type of situation. Money is one thing, but he knows what Hugh is going through is more than a money problem. He’s by himself and trying to tackle many problems with very little support. “And of course you can shower. There’s a bathroom to your right.” He gestures down the hall. The attached bathroom in _his_ room is for guests who share his bed. Hugh can use the upstairs bathroom.

“Should be stocked with anything you need. After you’re done, come downstairs and we’ll talk more and see what we can work out.”

Mads takes his leave to let Hugh get on with it. He figures the kid likely needs some time to calm down from everything too. And also a shower. Hugh had looked like a wet, kicked puppy and that didn’t sit well with Mads. Back in the kitchen, he sings along to the soft music while finally loading the dishwasher. He pulls out a beer as he hears the shower turn on.

He’s just helping. Temporarily.

* * *

Hugh has no idea what he’s doing or what he’s going to do, but for right now, he decides to take his current situation in smaller steps. Step number one is a shower, and Hugh immediately locks away the shower’s location in his mind. Step number two is apparently going downstairs to talk to Mads after. Hugh’s too tired to argue even though he wants to. So for the moment he just looks at Mads, his lips thin, probably looking as dejected as he feels, and he nods. He can’t understand why Mads doesn’t want him out of the way; thus far people this side of the pond haven’t really been that kind.

When Mads takes his leave, Hugh thanks him quietly and then turns. He unpacks his bags because his clothes are wet, and Hugh’s mood only declines a little more when he realizes _how_ soaked his clothes are. He frowns and sighs, then looks around the room. There’s a heating register artfully hidden and so Hugh walks over and pulls a chair close to it. He lays a shirt and sweatpants and underwear on the back of it to hopefully dry by the time he gets back, and then lays out the rest of his clothing on the floor, hoping for the best.

He _really_ needs the shower. It’s not so much to get clean as it is to keep from breaking down. Hugh washes himself methodically, distantly aware of the design and style of the bathroom but he’s far more interested in the pounding hot water and the steam that carves its way deep into his battered lungs. He just stands there for awhile, leaning his head against the tile on the wall, and he calms the freakout he can feel building steadily.

His clothes aren’t dry when he walks back to the guest room. Hugh eyes them for awhile, then looks around impotently. With a towel around his waist, he wanders around and in the end, he tries to decide what would be ruder: walking downstairs in a bathrobe or one of Mads’ shirts, or walking down there in a bloody towel. He’s honestly not sure which is worse. One is rude, the other presumptuous, and they’re both interchangeable.

In the end he decides to go for the one he can write off. If he heads downstairs and Mads is pissed about wearing his clothes, he can apologize and wash them. If he heads downstairs in a towel and Mads chides him for _not_ wearing his clothes, it’ll be a long walk of shame back into the room. So Hugh fishes around for a few really awkward moments until he finds what he thinks is an old t-shirt and a pair of jeans. It feels really rude to forgo underwear, but even ruder to borrow it. So when he’s dressed in clothes that are a little too big for him he wastes no time in awkwardly finding his way downstairs. He follows the sound of classic rock all the way into the familiar kitchen, though he lingers in the doorway for a few moments, listening to Mads’ voice.

“I… hope you don’t mind. My clothes were soaked, and showing up in a towel seemed like a bad idea.”

* * *

The beer is good. But beer is always good. With _The Doors_ still playing softly in the background, Mads lets himself lean forward and come to relax on his forearms against the counter. It should probably feel stranger to have Hugh staying over (even if it’s supposedly only for a night). While Hugh isn’t a complete stranger, it’s true that they don’t know each other all that well. Mads doesn’t know Hugh’s last name. Or his age for that matter. While he’s more than fine with asking about the former issue, the age thing is a bit daunting. That question is for later. Maybe never.

Age might just be a number, but Mads always thought it was a little weird to try and go after someone incredibly young. Kinda predatory, or something. He doesn’t know why that night he’d decided to pursue Hugh, perhaps it was to see if he still “had it,” as Phil would say. It wasn’t his norm and yet he had…

He hears the shower turn off and takes another swig from his can of beer. He feels like a smoke, but Mads decides to stick with the beer. Hugh will be down shortly. His beer is finished when Hugh enters the kitchen… and is wearing his clothes. Mads stands up and Hugh is quickly explaining why he’d went into Mads’ room and rummaged through a dresser to find some faded jeans and an old t-shirt.

“I’ve already seen you mostly naked, but I don’t mind,” Mads says dismissively. He takes out a beer for Hugh and another one for himself. He slides one can across the island toward the student. “Anyway, relax some, okay? There’s no hurry for you to scram tomorrow morning, and I’m not a killer or a rapist, or you know…”

Shit, why the fuck is he saying this? Mads opts to shut up and open his beer.

* * *

Hugh honestly isn’t sure what he’s expecting, but a reminder that Mads had seen him mostly naked is not it. He goes still and blinks, looking briefly dumbfounded. It isn’t like Mads is _wrong_ , and it’s not like Hugh isn’t able to remember what Mads looks like naked (that had been a memory he’d been happy to relive despite its continual haziness) but considering the perceived severity of the moment, Hugh just isn’t expecting something so blunt. It does its job though. Some of the nerves he’s been struggling with ease a little and Hugh watches as Mads retrieves a beer for him.

It’s something so bloody small, but Hugh looks at Mads like he’s a few seconds away from just slumping against the counter in gratitude. He doesn’t. He catches the can of beer and pops the tab before Mads can change his mind. He appreciates that his age hadn’t been asked; _here_ Hugh isn’t allowed to drink alcohol, which is bloody ridiculous. He’s been drinking beer legally since sixteen. That he’s suddenly twenty and not allowed is dumb. So he appreciates the confidence and immediately lifts the beer to his lips. Hugh drinks and after a moment, he walks to the counter to lean against it as well.

It’s there that he’s treated to an even bigger relief when Mads decides to run his mouth a little, seemingly by accident. Hugh blinks and looks at him, his eyebrows a little higher and eyes a little wider, and Mads seems to realize _what_ he’d been saying. It’s oddly charming when he closes his mouth and turns to his beer, but the 'damage’ has been done. Hugh finds himself relaxing a little more, at ease to know that he’s not the only awkward one here.

“At least I’m in good, flexible company,” he says, almost deadpan. “Seems you’re just as able to put your foot in your mouth as I am. It’s actually a relief.”

It’s not the kindest thing to say, but Hugh has had a long day and his filter is a little thin. As if to make up for it, he sends Mads a small smile, weak from the rough day and exhaustion, but no less genuine.

“I, uh… I didn’t want to presume. Just because you took me home doesn’t particularly mean you’d want to see me like that again. Clothes felt safer. I didn’t go snooping,” he adds, a little awkwardly. “I promise. I’m not _that_ dumb.”

* * *

Mads is glad Hugh takes the beer and comes to lean against the counter, seeming to get more comfortable. The kid still looks a bit on edge, but less so after the shower. Funny how a simple thing like warm water and soap can make a person feel so much better. Mads loves showers. One after any exercise and one before bed if he can. Nothing better than being clean and refreshed and sliding underneath crisp, soft sheets.

Well, he doesn’t scare Hugh away by mentioning murder and rape. That’s a good thing. His blunt nature often worked well in advertising and of course, if he ever went too far, he was a foreigner. It could be chalked up to that. Easily explained away. The Dane over-spoke? Mads Mikkelsen went too far? Oh, he didn’t mean to! Polite laughter all around, an embarrassed grin from him as he brushed a hand through his hair sheepishly. It’s worked well for Mads thus far. It seems to work now because Hugh relaxes further and give him some British humor back in return.

Mads grins in response. He’s glad that Hugh is at least being honest with him and not trying to suck up or stumble around a bunch of apologies. One genuine apology should be enough for anything. And Mads doesn’t need an apology anyway.

“I didn’t think you would snoop through my things,” Mads says honestly. “I can tell you’re a good kid – err, guy. Just in a tough spot. So, feel free to stay as long as you need. From what you told me, you don’t really know anyone here and aren’t all your measly paychecks going to attempting to pay off your tuition?”

* * *

The grin at least lets Hugh know that he’s allowed to speak his mind in front of Mads at least a little. He seems to appreciate Hugh’s sense of humor, or at least his sense of irony, so Hugh silently files that away in the event he’ll need it. Still, the reassurance that Mads doesn’t think him a snoop does help, though he’s less thrilled at being referred to as a _kid_. He’ll excuse it considering Mads is as old as he is but Hugh still doesn’t really enjoy it. Still, manners aren’t going to kill him.

He lifts his beer to his lips and takes a grateful sip. Honestly, back home, he’d have gone for something quite a bit stronger after the shit-storm from earlier, but he’s not at home and here, he can’t even _buy_ it. Not legally anyway. So for now, though he wishes it were brandy or at least a scotch, beer will do just fine. He takes a sizable swallow and searches for the burn before he sets the can down on the counter.

The phrase _measly paychecks_ does make Hugh frown, however. He shoots Mads a sidelong look, lips curved down and thinning a little, but it’s not like the guy is wrong. Hugh just doesn’t like hearing it.

“They’re not _measly_. I’m managing,” he protests, a little tightly, but before Mads can point it out, he remembers that technically he’s only here because he definitely isn’t managing. 'Managing’ would be him able to stay in the dorms. Hugh’s mouth shuts with a tiny click of his teeth and he braces his forearms on the counter, head ducking a little. His neck feels hot.

“I was,” he mumbles. “I just should have been working harder to find more work. If the loan wasn’t an issue–” Again, spilling financial woes. Wonderful.

He sighs. “I’ll manage.”

* * *

Mads has always gotten along with people. Most people. He’s a people person at heart which makes him good with clients. But as of late he’s been a little more introverted, a little harder to convince to go out and have a night on the town or whatever. Probably because he’s turning forty and apparently he’s supposed to reflect on his life and his choices or some shit like that. Well, depending on who he told, he’s pretty sure that offering some college kid who’s given him a blowjob and made out with him a place to stay is dubious at best. It’s too late now because he isn’t taking back the offer.

He watches Hugh take a drink. From _their_ night out, he knows Hugh likes hard liquor, but Mads doesn’t think that would be the smartest choice right now. It’s a school night, after all. He has work tomorrow and they have to both be adults and discuss the matter at hand.

The matter at hand is the money business and Mads knows that between a double major, Hugh doesn’t really have all that much time to work anyway. He watches Hugh frown and try to refute his claim… and fail.

“Uh huh,” Mads’ tone is one of disbelief. He doesn’t roll his eyes. “There’s only so much time in a day, Hugh.” Another drink. A considering look thrown to the younger man.

“How about we make some sort of arrangement? I pay the rest of your tuition and commission you for some art. You stay here until you’re done or have enough saved up for a place.”

For all Mads knows, the kid could actually suck at art, but he knows Hugh would never take a free handout. This is a compromise of some sort.

* * *

And just like that, quite promptly, Hugh chokes on his beer.

Honestly it’s not the most embarrassing response possible. It’s not him spitting his beer out against the oven, nor is it him just outright falling over, so Hugh’s going to count it as a minor win. That doesn’t help him for the seconds that follow where he coughs and sets his can back down, doubled over against the counter and sputtering to regain some of his breath. He maintains that he can’t be blamed; having a place to stay for an evening is one thing, but having someone offer to pay off his _tuition_ for art?

It takes Hugh an embarrassing amount of time to regain the capacity to breathe normally, and when he does his face is red from the exertion and his legs feel weak. That last one he unfortunately can’t dismiss as a lack of oxygen, and when he manages to looks at Mads - his eyes a little damp from the force of his coughing - he’s gaping obviously, his eyes wide, his jaw dropped.

“Wh-… y-you can’t be serious,” Hugh manages, his voice a little croaked and rough. He shoves his can of beer away and reaches a shaky hand up to stroke through his hair. He considers Mads for all of a few seconds before he shakes his head, expression cycling wildly from shocked to open awe to suspicion, and then to something nervously flat.

“Look, I know you tried to give me money before, and I know I wasn’t exactly… gracious before. I’m sorry. But you don’t have to make fun of me.” He rakes his fingers back through his wet hair, and it stands up in thick angles; his hair is not really made for mussing. “Tuition _alone_ is about fifty-grand a year. I… I understand teasing me; I was a git earlier. But that’s…” he trails off, shaking his head with a frown.

* * *

Mads’ offer unfortunately has Hugh having a battle with his beer in a pretty bad way. He watches him nearly choke, cough, sputter, fight for his breath, his face redden and his eyes become wet. Mads feels a little bad, but hey, _he’s_ trying to help. It’s not his problem the kid can’t process the kind offer _and_ drink at the same time. Mads take another drink and waits for Hugh to collect himself.

Eventually Hugh does calm down but he still gapes like a fish at him, all stunned and surprised. Mads stares back, not in the least bit bothered by the offer he just mentioned. Money is money. He has enough of it. More than enough, really. Savings accounts, investments, a steady income. Why shouldn’t he help? (Yeah, maybe this is mid-life crisis.)

“Do I look like I’m joking or teasing?” Mads shoots back, giving Hugh an unimpressed look. “You’re welcome to try and make it on your own, see how far that gets you. Probably out on the street and splashed again. You got into a good school. You have a double major. No family here, no friends to help. I’m your best prospect, kid.”

Okay, _now_ he needs a cigarette. Mads goes for a pack and pulls out one and lights it. The nicotine is a soothing hit to his system as he waits for Hugh to respond. He knows he’s being blunt, but he’s not here to sugarcoat things.

* * *

_'Do I look like I’m joking or teasing?’_

No. No he doesn’t. The realization hits Hugh low as he stands there by Mads’ counter, gaping at him. He doesn’t know what to do with the idea that this stranger might be serious. Hugh has never been a guy to accept handouts, and he hardly knows what to do with himself when Mads takes one look at him, unimpressed, and then soldiers on. Hugh’s mouth shuts and he listens in a numb silence as Mads not only breaks things down for him, but also helpfully verbally grabs him by the scruff to rub his nose in it.

There’s no kindness in Mads’ words. It’s all blunt fact, and Hugh feels cowed when he looks down at the counter, tracing the mild pattern with one of his fingers. Mads is right. Unless Hugh wants to go back home with his tail between his legs and do something 'worthwhile’, this is the best option he’s going to get. It only distantly registers to him that Mads knows so much about him (Christ, how much had he _said_ that night?).

Hugh watches as Mads steps around him to grab a pack of cigarettes and he’s silent as Mads lights up. It takes him a few moments to properly categorize what he’s feeling, and longer still to really think over his options.

When he finally draws in a deeper breath and looks over at Mads, his shoulders are low in defeat. He swallows.

“Yeah,” Hugh says (well, croaks, but he clears his throat after). “Yeah, I know you are. But tuition is _expensive_ , Ma– M-Mr. Mikkelsen. It’s not… it’s not what you tried to give me earlier. This is different. So…”

Hugh casts about for a moment, but only two questions seem pertinent. He’s stunned. “ _Why?_ And… and what do I have to– to do?”

* * *

Hugh isn’t actually a kid, is the thing. Mads may think of Hugh as one inside his head, but that’s about as far as it goes. Hugh is an adult. He has an ID. A passport. He’s well passed puberty. He’s got the facial hair. A masculine voice. He’s in school. Life is hard. Following dreams is possibly harder. Mads… Well, he helps with charities. He volunteers. He supports the arts. He does what’s normal and expected in that way. This…

This is abnormal. Maybe even crazy, like those pictures of people giving huge tips to a waitress. He’s never offered such a large sum of money to someone other than family. He really ought to be bothered, but…

But there had been something about how Hugh’s face lit up while talking (and it wasn’t just the alcohol). There had been real passion and creativity there. Mads had listened, enthralled, asking questions and enjoying the enthusiasm of Hugh greatly.

The Hugh in front of him looks down at the counter, stuck between a rock and a hard place or however that saying goes. Mads smokes and says nothing as Hugh deals with the unfavorable truth. When their eyes meet again, Hugh seems a little more open minded, but still not pleased. And then a 'Mr. Mikkelsen’ comes out of Hugh’s mouth and Mads grimaces. Sir? Mr. Mikkelsen? Shit. He doesn’t like that one bit.

_'Why? And… and what do I have to– to do?’_

The questions pull him from his mind and Mads flicks off the ash into a fancy blown glass ashtray on the counter.

“First of all, call me Mads. Not 'Sir’ and definitely not 'Mr. Mikkelsen’,” Mads instructs, sounding a little exasperated. “ _Why_? Because I can and because I want to. And as for what you _have_ to do… Wait.”

Mads shakes his head and takes another drag and exhales. “This isn’t a sex-for-money type of thing, okay? I just want you to get good grades, not trash my place and not steal from me. Oh. And some art. I guess. Eventually.”

* * *

It’s good manners. That’s why he calls Mads what he does. That, plus Hugh has finally put together the sheer scope of what he’s being asked. He’s still stunned; not only is this a lot of money but he’s at a distinct disadvantage. He doesn’t remember a lot of what he’d divulged the night they’d spent together. He doesn’t remember much of what Mads had told _him._ He remembers a winning smile and bright eyes, remembers honest interest and curiosity, and, of course, he remembers the weight of Mads’ dick against his tongue. Now, standing in the kitchen in bare feet, Mads’ sweatpants low on his hips and the legs pooling loose around his ankles, the shirt large on his body, he feels the power imbalance acutely.

It’s simple. He needs. Mads can offer. But ultimately Mads is the one with all the cards. Hugh shifts uneasily; it’s not that he really thinks Mads would suggest… but then, he doesn’t _know_ the guy. Realizing this, 'Mr. Mikkelsen’ seems knowingly respectful. Hugh glances away, lips thin, and so he misses the immediate grimace that jumps to Mads’ lips. He’s just gearing himself up to think of another question that sounds less like 'how often do I need to get on my knees for this?’ when Mads chimes in, sounding exasperated.

Irritation is one thing. Smug amusement is another.

 _Exasperation_ is not the tone Hugh is expecting, so his gaze snaps up immediately and he’s left just staring at Mads, brow pinched in confusion. This time, when Mads cuts himself off, apparently realizing Hugh’s assumption, he _almost_ sounds annoyed. Almost. Instead Hugh watches him drag on his cigarette and the smoke feels vaguely insulted for him. Hugh swallows.

“…and?” He prompts after a long moment, once Mads finishes. He can’t _be_ finished because there’s a lot more that he clearly wants, or should want. The thing is that Hugh isn’t a bloody moron. If Mads is offering to pay tuition, that’s at least forty grand even with the loans, and he’s some no-name, overworked university student who hadn’t even had artwork displayed in the exhibit. Mads isn’t banking on him for his talent, and he’s apparently not after the sex, so… what is it? Hugh is dumbfounded.

It takes him longer than he’d like to realize that Mads doesn’t seem to be interested in shocking him. Hugh blinks and immediately he rewinds what Mads had said. ’ _Because I can and because I want to’… 'get good grades, not trash my place, and not steal from me… some art. I guess. Eventually.’_

He just stands there, his arms on the counter, and when he finally meets Mads’ eyes again, Hugh can only stare at him.

“That’s it? You’re… fuck, you’re serious, aren’t you? But I don’t– I don’t understand. Why _me?_ I didn’t even have a display at the exhibit, Mads. I was just there taking coats and carrying trays,” Hugh insists, though his face does heat at the reminder of how ridiculous a meeting it had been.

“I’ve not been great to you, I can’t imagine the sex was _that_ good. I can’t– that’s a _lot_ of money,” Hugh finishes quietly, almost a whisper.

* * *

It _is_ a lot of money, but Mads can afford it. He wouldn’t have offered it if he couldn’t. He may be a _little_ out there, but he’s not crazy. He’s not going to do anything that would fuck up _his_ life. Mads likes his life. He’s used to living a certain way, having certain luxuries and being able to have certain experiences because he’s well off.

He likes his vacations. He likes being able to buy good electronics and support local farmer’s markets. He likes the maid quite a bit. He likes being able to fly back to Denmark and see how family or fly them out. Money doesn’t buy happiness, but it makes life a lot easier.

He wants Hugh’s life to be easier. Because… Mads hadn’t followed his dream, but Hugh _had._ Hugh had the balls to come to America and try and maybe one dreamer should have some help. Mads wants Hugh to make it. Mads is too old to do it now, but Hugh isn’t.

But he doesn’t want Hugh to have to _owe_ him anything for it. Yeah, Mads knows what a “sugar daddy” is, but he’s _not_ paying anyone for sex. He’s not that type of guy – he’s never been that kind of guy. (Is a tiny part tempted? Yes; Hugh is both handsome and pretty and Mads remembers how it felt to kiss him and have Hugh’s mouth on his cock– but he doesn’t want sex if it’s an obligation, if it becomes a currency between them).

Mads takes another drag of his smoke as Hugh seems to deliberate for quite some time. He assumes that Hugh would have likely taken the deal even if sex _was_ his form of repayment. Desperate times and all… They look at each other and Mads holds Hugh’s incredulous eyes as Hugh stumbles through his reply. The kid’s cute as he tries to make sense of it all. Mads knows Hugh is a worthy investment. Hugh might not believe it, but one day, maybe.

“Well, you can be great to me now. I want you to succeed. Show me my money is going to good use, yeah?” Mads smiles and stubs out the cigarette, going for his beer. “There’ll be some more rules, I’m sure. It’s not going to be like some hotel. Tomorrow we’ll go pay the school.”

* * *

That’s it then. Hugh’s looking for the catch; maybe he’s too stunned to notice it, but the more he looks for a catch, the less he sees one. Mads could be smirking, could be obvious, but he doesn’t have to be. If he’d wanted sex, it would have been simple. Hugh knows he’s over a barrel on this one, and he _knows_ Mads has the money to help. It would have been simple to make his suggestion sexual, but instead of that, Mads just looks kind. There’s no deception in his eyes; he just keeps smoking until it’s almost to the filter and then stubs his cigarette out and reaches for his beer instead.

Hugh doesn’t know how to respond. It isn’t like he’s not aware that people like Mads do exist, but benevolence usually has strings attached to it regardless of whether or not it’s deserved. Charities still offer tax deductible receipts. It’s human nature. You give something, you want something in return. That’s the way the world works. So having Mads just smiling at him and telling him that Hugh’s job is to get good grades and put his money to good use is enough to honestly stun him.

He gapes, but without suspicion or real shock this time. Instead Hugh just looks at Mads like there’s a part of him that wants to poke him to make sure that he’s real. In the end, Hugh just looks down at himself. He blinks, considers, and then pinches himself. When it hurts, he pinches harder, as subtly as he can. Despite the pain, it still feels like he’s missing something, like there’s a hidden catch, but given his current situation and his options, there’s no room to question. He swallows.

"Thank you,” he says, and fuck, he even _sounds_ dazed. He wants to decline, but he can’t and they both know it. The mention of _rules_ makes him feel nervous but he can handle ground rules. He can do this.

“I can’t… I have no bloody idea why you’re doing this. But I’m grateful. I’m… God, I’m sorry, there aren’t _words_ to…” He trails off, awkward, and reaches up to rub at his face. He’s still stunned.

“I’ll… I’ll follow whatever rules, of course. Will you let me… I don’t know. _Do_ something? Clean up? Organize? Something? I can’t just… my art isn’t worth that much and you know it.”

He wants to bring up something else. The possibility for drawing up something in writing in the event this falls through, but it feels rude to cover his own ass.

So instead he hedges, “and um… if this doesn’t work out, what then? I can’t exactly pay you back.”

* * *

Yeah, it’s not a normal offer by any means. Mads knows it’s not an everyday occurrence. It’s like a plot from a dumb movie or book. But he’s not Prince Charming and the kid ain’t some damsel either. Mads is hoping the Hugh can get over it because there’s only so many ways he can explain himself and he doesn’t want to get into the touchy-feely reasons. At least not _now._ Maybe later he’ll open up and share. Maybe he won’t. Maybe they won’t actually become friends. They wouldn’t _have_ to be. Mads isn’t about to make that any sort of fucking rule. (It would be kinda sad if he did.)

This whole thing could be one giant mistake. Hugh could rob him blind. Hugh could trash his place in some horribly cliche college party. They could possibly not click and more awkward conversations and looks would be greeting Mads. What would happen if he goes away on business? What would his neighbors think? His friends? Family? How long would Hugh be staying? Nothing is guaranteed to work out… But maybe Mads wants to believe in the best of Hugh and that he can make a positive difference in the student’s life.

Hugh looks dazed as he tries to process it all. Hugh also is fidgeting a little and looking like he’s trying to pinch himself. Weird kid. But Mads gets it. This isn’t a normal thing. It probably seems like a dream that’s too good to be true. Hugh _is_ pretty cute stumbling on about his thanks and offering to _do_ things around the house. (Maybe Hugh can be the new maid… Dress him up as a French– no, no.)

_’…if this doesn’t work out, what then? I can’t exactly pay you back.’_

Mads sighs and drains his beer. “Shit, kid, all your worrying is giving me a headache,” he comments, but not unkindly. “I’m not expecting repayment. You don’t seem like the type to fuck up a good thing anyway. How about this: tomorrow evening we will hammer out some agreement in writing. Rules. Specifics. But for tonight… You said your clothes were wet. Want to be introduced to my laundry room? Probably need a tour of the place anyway.”

* * *

Hugh isn’t sure how one of the worst days of his life has turned into one filled with actual opportunity. He keeps waiting for the catch, for something to change, but it doesn’t. Mads doesn’t start smirking, there’s no sly sidelong looks. He doesn’t even look overly thoughtful. Maybe part of the reason is that Hugh is expecting there to be a catch. He’s not exactly in his fifties. Most of his general knowledge comes from the media he consumes, and considering he’s seen things like _Pretty Woman_ (not likely with the bloody tracksuit) and _The Princess Diaries_ (a date’s fault, not his choice), he knows how these arrangements tend to go. Or at least how Hollywood assumes they tend to go.

He doesn’t know what to do with _no catch_. Instead he just blinks, looks up at Mads, and realizes that maybe the guy is just plain mad. Or maybe he’s just a good person. Is there a difference between the two, really?

Even so, despite this, Hugh’s shoulders actually _do_ relax at the mention of drawing up an agreement. It’s something he can finally make sense of. Brows drawing down in, he sends Mads a look that is _all_ relief as some of the tension leaves him. He swallows, tugs idly at the hem of a shirt that doesn’t belong to him, and nods. He can work with this even if it doesn’t make a lot of sense. The idea of having rules and specifics written down for him negates the chances that he completely fucks up. He’ll take it.

“Yeah. Yes, I– yes, _thank you_ , Mads,” Hugh finally says, and he sounds like he means it instead of simply suspecting it. He’s still a little wide-eyed, still dazed and awed, but there’s more there now; he’s present in himself more than he had been. An agreement is all he needs, but hearing the added offer of a place to do laundry is just so bloody normal that Hugh can’t help but relax. He nods, almost meekly initially and then again, more confidently.

“And yes. Please. I’d… I mean, your clothes are fine, but I didn’t really ask to wear them. I’d prefer my own. So yeah, if you… don’t mind showing me around? I’d appreciate it.”


	3. Yeah, cute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At lunchtime, Mads has an open Word document on his laptop and in bullet points he types out the so-called “rules” for Hugh and tries to not feel like some parent or guardian in the process.
> 
> It doesn’t really work.
> 
> Phil pops in and Mads minimizes the document so fast it’s as if he had been watching porn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit of brief straight sex in this chapter and a female OC but don't worry she's cool and pretty much supports these two hooking up... Dx
> 
> Mads written by Merry ([tumblr](http://merrythought.tumblr.com)) | Hugh written by Dapperscript ([tumblr](http://reallymisscoffee.tumblr.com/))

They get Hugh’s wet clothing into the dryer and Mads gives him a brief explanation of how the machine works. And since they’re here, Mads begins explaining the washing machine too. Might as well, right? Midway through, Mads has the distinct impression that Hugh is merely being polite when he asks a few questions and he isn’t actually clueless. Makes sense… Hugh isn’t actually a child. Oops.

Before they part ways, they exchange phone numbers and Mads learns that Hugh’s last name is ‘Dancy.’ Somehow it fits the kid. Hugh Dancy. It has a nice ring to it. Mads gives him instructions to be down for breakfast by 7:15AM and that afterward they will head to the school to pay the rest of Hugh’s fees. 

Mads sleeps lightly. He wakes up at 5:45 with a groan and gets his morning swim out of the way. By 7 he’s back, showered and dressed in a suit (without the tie) for work. He’s also wearing an apron of course because cooking and nice clothing never mix for him. Hugh’s on time and the conversation is quite a bit less awkward than their first morning-after breakfast.

He gives Hugh one of the working combinations for his programmable lock on the front door. Mads hopes when he comes back from work that everything is still in his house and Hugh is actually there too.

* * *

Hugh legitimately feels like he’s dreaming. That’s the only explanation for any of this. When he goes to sleep that evening while his clothes are in the dryer, it’s with the full expectation that when he wakes up in the morning, he’ll have found that this had all been a wild fever dream and that he’s actually asleep outside of a bin or something. Yet when Hugh’s alarm blares at him at 6:50AM and he wakes up to a Halloween-styled room and the softest sheets he could have imagined, he isn’t sure if he’s more relieved or stunned that this is apparently _real_.

He walks downstairs that morning in a daze and retrieves his clothes from the dresser. On autopilot, Hugh dresses in a pair of soft jeans, faded at the knee, and a soft grey polo shirt with a small embroidered horse on the collar, though he doesn’t know why it’s there. When he walks downstairs, Mads is there, and Hugh does an immediate double-take upon seeing him, because Mads looks _good_ in his suit, despite the apron.

Breakfast is actually really good, and Hugh doesn’t spare his thanks this morning. He’s still dazed, still amazed, but his manners have finally started to catch up with him properly. He doesn’t stutter everything out, and when Mads speaks with him, Hugh actually strives to carry on a conversation with him. He compliments breakfast, sheepishly asks if there’s more, and takes it with him when Mads drops him off at school in order to pay the rest of the tuition. Hugh isn’t the only one who looks shocked as Mads signs the papers; most of the people in the office look stunned as well. It _is_ a lot of money.

* * *

At lunchtime, Mads has an open Word document on his laptop and in bullet points he types out the so-called “rules” for Hugh and tries to not feel like some parent or guardian in the process.

It doesn’t really work.

Phil pops in and Mads minimizes the document so fast it’s as if he had been watching porn.

* * *

“Hey, I’m home,” Mads announces and then immediately has no plans on _ever_ saying that again. Too much like, 'honey, I’m home!’ for his tastes. 

Slipping off his wool jacket, he notices Hugh’s shoes and coat present. As he walks further into his home Hugh is waiting for him… Looking all student-y with some books open on the island and a glass of milk. Mads places his briefcase on the table and shrugs off his suit jacket, letting it drop to the floor and then unbuttons the top two buttons on his shirt. 

“Got your rules,” Mads says casually. He produces said rules from his briefcase, a single page typed. He hands it over to Hugh for inspection.

Trial duration: fall semester

-Absolutely no parties, no more than two friends over unless school related (or if they’re hot… kidding)

-Monday through Thursday, don’t be loud past 11 (music, fucking, dancing, whatever)

-Don’t break anything

-Don’t snoop through my personal shit

-Don’t tip-toe around either

-No 'Sir’ or 'Mr. Mikkelsen’

-No recreational drugs

-Don’t be rowdy and annoying

-Unless otherwise stated, breakfast together every morning to make sure you’re actually feeding yourself good shit

-GPA Requirement: 3.0+

-Curfew: 12 on school nights, 2AM on non-school nights.

-Do your own laundry, keep your room and bathroom clean

-All costs associated with school (tuition, transportation, supplies etc.) will be covered

-Some art, details to be discussed after I learn what you actually can do

-If you fuck up everything, you can repay me with the sale of your kidney

On the bottom it’s signed and dated.

* * *

Hugh doesn’t have classes in the afternoon, so he stops by the library to work an extra shift. Just because Mads wants to pay for him doesn’t mean Hugh is going to sit back and do nothing. So he works from one to four and when he gets back to Mads’ house (home? Can he call it that?) Hugh makes for the kitchen table immediately and sets out his books. He leans over them, grabs himself a glass of milk, and gets to work.

It feels like it’s only been fifteen minutes by the time Mads gets home, but one glance from Hugh is all he needs to see that he’d already been at work for a few hours. Yawning, sitting back, Hugh rolls his shoulders slowly. He watches as Mads walks in (and watches his suit jacket fall to the floor) but just as Hugh pushes his chair back, ready to retrieve the jacket, Mads distracts him.

Hugh perks up immediately at the mention of rules, and he’s definitely hesitant when he reaches over for them, but he sets them down on his books and quickly skims them.

They are… well, they’re colorful. None of them are professional (Hugh even snorts softly at the mention of _hot_ friends; he hopes it’s a joke) but most of them are pretty straightforward, which Hugh can appreciate. He looks them over three times. While his cheeks do heat a little at the mention of _fucking_ , nothing on the list looks unreasonable. 

“This looks fine. I mean, I don’t really _have_ friends to come over, and even it I did, how would I explain living here?” Hugh murmurs, more to himself than Mads as he rereads the list, cheek propped up on one of his fists. “I’m not looking to break things or snoop. What do you mean by tip-toeing around?” Hugh asks, glancing back at Mads. He’d not missed the _Sir_ thing either but he tries to keep the amusement out of his eyes. 

“And I do have an art portfolio if you want to see it. You could have asked.”

He’s not going to comment on the kidney thing. He’s… _fairly_ certain that’s a joke.

* * *

Mads had been thinking on and off all day about the so called rules. Were they fair, or overkill? Would he come across as too much of a parent? He knows having too much free reign isn’t a good thing, but the kid isn’t _his_ kid. It’s not _his_ responsibility to make sure Hugh succeeds and grows up into a decent adult… But isn’t that what he’s sort of implying? Breakfast together and curfews? Chores? Shit that keeps people more grounded or whatever? … Fuck.

The desire to go out and get trashed this weekend is strong, but Mads is still a little hesitant to be leaving Hugh alone and _then_ coming back intoxicated… Probably wouldn’t look the best. He doesn’t want to give the impression that he needs to get drunk either. Hugh might infer that _he_ was the cause (which would be true).

So, Mads should stay in.

He watches Hugh go over the infamous list before a beer seems like a better idea. Can retrieved and he does overhear Hugh’s comment about friends or lack thereof. Hugh may not know anyone _now_ , but young, cute, artist, actor _and_ British? He’ll have friends in no time. And maybe he’ll find a place to move into… (Mads doesn’t know how he feels about that; he knows how he _should_ feel about it. He should want Hugh to have a more normal post-secondary experience with people more his age and whatnot.)

“And the tip-toeing is like… Being overly cautious and not helping yourself. If you’re staying here, feel free to use my stuff. The TV, the stereo. Help yourself to food. Other than my room, you can snoop around if you need something like towels or whatever. I assume you found the Wifi password on the fridge,” Mads explains and then takes a drink. “And you could show me your portfolio after dinner. You hungry?”

* * *

Oh. Tip-toeing, as in being too nervous to do anything for himself. The hesitation that Hugh had been feeling before, then. While a part of Hugh does want to protest that he hadn’t been _that_ unbearable, he can see where being cautious is only a short jump away from grovelling, and he’s pretty sure someone like Mads doesn’t have the patience for it. Hugh has never been a brown-noser. He’s polite by nature (when his sarcasm doesn’t get in the way) but he’s not about to cozy up to someone to avoid negative repercussions. His parents taught him respect, not submission. There’s a difference.

Hugh chews at his lower lip, a leading lick with his tongue before curling his lip in between his teeth. It’s a thoughtful gesture as he looks over the rules a few times to make sure he has them known. Honestly they’re a lot better than the ones he’d been enforcing on _himself_ , so he can’t even complain about a curfew. While the thought of a stranger, older man detailing how late he can and can’t stay up (or stay out) is a little weird, Hugh is too grateful that this is even a _thing_.

His tuition is paid. He’s still floating on the knowledge but it hasn’t sunk in yet. He doesn’t _need_ to work his ass off right now unless he wants to, and while a small part of him keeps replaying the old adage 'you can’t get something from nothing’, he’s not going to look this gift horse in the mouth again so quickly. Not yet.

“Yeah, I found the WiFi password,” Hugh says, nodding down at the list. “Just for the record, I’m not _normally_ so hesitant. I just… don’t know you and I was _trying_ to be respectful. I meant no offense. But I can follow these.” Hugh takes the rules and - after a small glance at Mads - he tucks them away into his workbook, sliding them in behind a few math tables so no one else but him can see them. 

“Seriously, if you want me to _do_ anything around here… I mean, I’m not the best cook, but I could learn. And I can clean up a little. It’s no trouble, especially considering all of this. But… ah, yeah,” Hugh finishes, looking a little sheepish. “I am. I was working in the library earlier and forgot lunch.”

* * *

When possible, Mads has always preferred to dive right into things. He’s not one to do much tip-toeing around people. But he’s also not an idiot, he can behave when needed during business meetings and whatnot. His more casually outspoken/blunt nature usually won people over. At least people who didn’t have sticks up their asses and were worth being won over.

He knows there’s a stereotype of the British being uptight and polite. Thus far Hugh doesn’t seem too crazy, but Mads doesn’t want Hugh to feel like an unwanted guest. If Hugh is on edge, he’ll be on edge. Mads is hoping that cutting to the chase will help in the long run. He gets being respectful, but shit, he’s swapped spit with the kid. He’s not some mysterious benefactor.

Mads figures that Hugh will get used to how things are. When Hugh brings up _doing_ things, Mads tries really hard to not think of Hugh dressed up in a French Maid costume. So what? Mads has a bit of a crossdressing kink. There are weirder things to like.

_‘I was working in the library earlier and forgot lunch.’_

“See? That’s why the breakfast rule is there,” Mads retorts. It’s a friendly barb. He makes his way into the kitchen and starts looking through his fridge, trying to find something simple but filling. 

“And as far as doing things around here, I have a maid, but I could have her come less if you want to play Cinderella.” 

Spaghetti will do. He takes out some onions and tomatoes to chop up. While not adventurous enough to make homemade sauce, Mads usually just adds some fresh shit to it. 

“I’m guessing you’re normal and like spaghetti? You aren’t a vegetarian are you?”

* * *

Hugh opens his mouth to protest that he doesn’t _need_ lunch the way some would, but before he can argue it, he realizes how ridiculous a protest that sounds. A little disgruntled but not cowed, he closes his mouth and instead looks over at Mads as he walks over to the fridge in order to look around. In truth, Hugh is curious. He’s not a hard guy to live with; he generally keeps to himself and he doesn’t cause trouble the way most teenagers or people his age tend to, but that doesn’t mean he’s not inquisitive. He leans over a little to watch Mads open the fridge; he hadn’t known if he’d been allowed to look into it before, so he hadn’t. Now, (especially given the beer) he finds himself a little more interested in what the fridge could hold.

He’s distracted only a little by the mention of a _maid_ and immediately Hugh freezes. He blinks, then holds both his hands up with a small frown. 

“Err, no. Not that I wouldn’t be willing to, but I’m not going to compromise someone else’s paycheck just to appease my conscience. I didn’t know you had a maid.” He doesn’t know many things about Mads, really. Hugh chews at his lip a little more. If he’s going to be staying with the guy, he should know something beyond the fact that he’s actually pretty toned under his clothes, and his cock is big. Neither of those facts seem conducive to a non-creepy roommate agreement.

“Can I help?” Hugh wonders, closing his books to save them from stray ingredients. He hastily sweeps them down into his arms and carries them over to the table before walking back to hover close to where Mads is setting out the vegetables. 

“I like spaghetti, and no, I’m not vegetarian. But I think I can chop a few vegetables or boil some water without chopping my hand off.” It’s a dry comment, almost teasing. This is awkward, but it doesn’t have to be. It shouldn’t be if Hugh actually _tries_. The only issue is what the fuck do you say to a guy who just dropped over twenty grand for a full semester at NYU? 

“Do you like to cook?”

* * *

Mads had been suspecting Hugh to turn down the prospect of doing more chores because housecleaning sucked (which is the reason why Mads has a maid come every three days). But Hugh mentions not wanting to mess up _her_ paycheck. It’s honestly noble. It’s surprising. It even sounds genuine too. Weird kid, indeed.

Hugh is apparently committed to the helping thing, cleaning up his books and coming over to offer his apparently meager culinary skills. Thank God he isn’t a vegetarian. That would have been annoying to try and cater to. Mads gets out a maple cutting board and places the appropriate knife on top of it for cutting up the onions and tomatoes. 

“You can just cut them up small enough to be bite size,” Mads instructs with a shrug. 

He’s obviously not overly skilled in the kitchen, but he gets by. It’s not all homemade but it’s not all packaged shit either. He’d say it’s a good mix. 

“We’ll just add them to the sauce with some spices and let that simmer. Going to fry up some chorizo sausage for the sauce too.” Mads turns back to the fridge hoping Hugh will at least wash his hands before he starts chopping duty. He pulls out the wrapped chorizo and then remembers the question.

“Like it…?” He echoes back, thinking over his thoughts regarding the activity. “Sometimes. It’s easier to cook for more than just myself. I could definitely do better, should probably take some classes, but whatever. I get by. I had a personal chef prepare meals and stuff for a while and then drop them off, but that felt weird.”

* * *

A personal chef. A personal chef. Of course, why wouldn’t he have had one? Hugh thinks back to Mads’ Wikipedia page where his net worth had been listed and once more he feels the divide. Again, he hadn’t grown up in squalor. Hugh’s pretty sure he can claim the low end of high class or the high end of middle class as far as his family is concerned, but not even they had been picking away at meals prepared by a personal chef. Thankfully the little surprise doesn’t throw him for long and instead Hugh just clears his throat and looks down at what Mads wants him to do.

Considering he isn’t a crazy person, he does, in fact, wash his hands first. Then, while onions aren’t exactly his favorite thing to chop up, Hugh steps over to the cutting board and starts on it without complaint. He winds up cutting it up a little finer than just bite-sized because he doesn’t want to bite into a chunk of onion if he can help it, but otherwise it’s not bad. His eyes get red and start to water while cutting up the onions, so he abandons the task briefly to pull his shirt up over his nose and mouth. It doesn’t help his eyes, but it does make it better. 

“You cook a good breakfast,” he offers, his voice a little muffled as he chops the onions and tomatoes.

It honestly doesn’t take Hugh more than a few minutes to finish, and by then, the smell of the sausage is enough to make his stomach growl loudly. He shifts, embarrassed, but he can’t exactly help the fact that he’s hungry. Hugh licks his lips as he glances back at the sausage and tries not to look _too much_ like a dog. He’s been looking like he’s a few seconds away from begging far too often as of late. 

“What did you do for meals before me?” Hugh asks, though upon realizing how that sounds, he amends: “Food. What did you…– did you cook meals for yourself before I got here? After the personal chef, I mean.”

* * *

Mads doesn’t seem to notice the possible innuendo. English is his second language, after all. He washes his own hands, grabs another cutting board and goes about chopping up the chorizo and then getting a large skillet to then saute the vegetables and sauce with it. 

“Yeah, I cooked for myself. Mostly just looked up recipes of what I liked and decided what shortcuts I would take.”

They work well together. Hugh seems pretty sensitive to to the smell of onions, but Mads just lets him suffer through it and finish. Can’t baby the kid all the time (but maybe he decides to keep it in mind for next time).

They eat, they talk a little, it goes decently. Afterward, they do the few dishes that can’t go into the dishwasher. Mads plops in front of the TV and watches some bland sitcoms to unwind while Hugh digs back into his homework. Before he heads up to bed, Mads asks Hugh to send him his schedule. It’s quickly worked out that Mads can take Hugh to school but Hugh will have to take transit and walk a bit to get back. It’s a decent compromise.

* * *

So, their sort of roommate life begins. They eat breakfast every morning together. It turns out Hugh is a rather sleepy and somewhat grumpy thing until he actually wakes up. Mads is often treated to a young hot thing stumbling down to the kitchen _only_ wearing boxers. It’s more than a little distracting, but Mads handles it as best as he can. He focuses on the cooking and then reading the newspaper a little more diligently.

Hugh makes nice with Juliana his maid (and she doesn’t ask him anything about Hugh, simply commenting that he seems like a very nice boy). Most evenings they eat together, some they don’t. Sometimes Mads orders in, but he usually tries to cook something. Often times Hugh helps him. For the most part things aren’t that awkward between them and Mads finds that he actually is starting to like the company.

* * *

What had started out as an impossible scenario has quickly become comfortable. Mads is actually a pretty gracious host; he’s not unreasonable and anything Hugh had initially suspected quickly falls by the wayside. It’s quickly apparent that this isn’t a sex thing. It’s not even a status symbol thing. Hugh isn’t supposed to go out with Mads while dressed up and look pretty. There’s no fawning over him or hanging off of his arm. Instead he wakes up and staggers downstairs and is fairly impossible until he gets coffee into him (Mads doesn’t seem to mind the boxers thing, which is good, as staggering to a coffee pot in his boxers has kind of become a habit over the years.) They have breakfast together, Hugh gets dressed, and then Mads drives him into school. Sometimes he stays late to study but some nights he’s back at Mads’ house for dinner.

The maid - Juliana - is a sweet woman who doesn’t judge Hugh for staying with Mads. Hugh meets her one day when he’s doing homework and while she is a little suspicious, Hugh is able to assuage her worries. He makes tea and gets to know her a little better, and by the time Mads comes home that evening, Hugh’s delved into helping her out while listening to stories about her children. Mads doesn’t seem upset to know that Hugh has met her; apparently this isn’t considered snooping. Juliana never asks why he’s there; Hugh just mentions he’ll be staying because Mads is helping him with school, and that’s all it takes to appease her.

She leaves cookies one day, and Hugh leaves them out so Mads can take a few as well. All in all, it’s a comfortable arrangement. As the weeks pass, Hugh relaxes; he finds that Mads is actually a good conversationalist and a few times when he’s having difficulties in a few of his classes, Mads sits down with him and helps out as he can. They eat meals together and sometimes watch TV together, and Hugh shows Mads a few pieces from his portfolio on and off. It’s surprisingly comfortable.

* * *

It’s the third weekend since Hugh moved in that Mads decides to go out and seek some sexual companionship. He meets up with Sofie – a friend with benefits from work. They drink and catch up and it’s nice to have someone interested in him that he can touch and kiss. There’s no question about taking her home. He’s not going to change more of his life for Hugh Dancy. He’s a man, he still has needs and Hugh is allowed to have sex…

The lights are off in the house when they get back. It makes Mads feel a little better about the whole thing. While he’s not ashamed of what he’s doing, it still would have been a weird introduction. In minutes they’re in his bedroom, clothing pulled off and she’s giggling as she throws a condom at him. Mads turns on some music, just to be polite. There’s no need for much foreplay; there’s no pretense of romance, that both know what that is. They both want to fuck and after some comfortable making out, Mads is flipping Sofie onto her knees and doing her doggy-style.

God, it feels good. Sofie is pushing back into him and being loud. Mads’ hands hold her hips tight as he fucks into her with short, quick thrusts. It hasn’t been that long and he’s of course jerked off, but Hugh had been his last partner and now he sees him every day and okay, there’s some lingering attraction there.

* * *

There isn’t an issue until the weekend Mads brings someone home, and even then, it’s not so much an _issue_ as it is an awakening.

Hugh’s home when Mads brings his date back, but he’s not paying attention. As Mads leads Sofie upstairs to his bedroom, Hugh is in his own bedroom, sitting at a desk Mads had had brought in for him. He’s pouring over books, headphones in his ears, connected to the music playing on his phone. His fingers drum slowly to the beat - classic rock, which Mads has slowly been getting him into since he plays it all the goddamn time - and Hugh hums along quietly, reading and taking notes and jotting down ideas for essays.

It’s only when his stomach growls loudly at him - enough to almost make him feel nauseous - that he realizes he’s not had anything to eat or drink in a few hours. Hugh checks the time, curses, and stands, tossing his headphones aside. He doesn’t even think as he steps out into the hallway, closing his door behind him on autopilot. He makes a beeline for the stairway and he’s only _just_ got a hand on the railing when he hears the first _obvious_ moan from down the hall.

Hugh freezes.

Initially he thinks he’s just imagined it, but it doesn’t take him long to realize that Mads has someone over. He can hear music playing, but it does absolutely nothing to muffle the sounds of sex he can hear. Immediately Hugh’s face goes red; he can hear the distant slapping of skin, can hear _very_ enthusiastic female moaning, and the knowledge that Mads is fucking someone hits him so hard that he hardly knows what to do with himself. His dick has a few ideas. Hugh tries to ignore it, but it isn’t long before his jeans feel tight and he’s just left standing there, somewhat paralyzed.

He could just go downstairs for a drink and a snack, as he’d been intending, but the stairs are loud and he doesn’t want Mads to know he’s here. It’s not like he’s an asshole; he’s not about to barge in and tell him to keep it down. He _could_ go back to his room, but the door creaks loudly when it opens and he’s a little afraid that Mads would hear that too. His music isn’t on that loudly. 

Hugh can hear more than enough. Fuck, what if Mads hears him and thinks he was being a pervert? Hell, is that what he’s doing now? Hugh shifts, uncomfortable, because… look, it’s not like he hasn’t thought about it. It’s hard _not_ to, given the fact he’s had Mads’ dick in his mouth. (Not that he can remember it well, despite how badly he wants to.)

Hugh swallows, waffling back and forth. Going back to his room is a no. Going down the stairs is probably also a bad idea. He could just… wait, he supposes. Shifting, he squirms. Whoever the woman is, she’s apparently _very_ appreciative of Mads’ skill, given the way she sounds. If he hadn’t been drunk that night, if he’d stayed awake after blowing Mads, would that have been him? Fuck… A guilty heat slides through him and Hugh reaches down, pressing the heel of his hand against the front of his jeans, silently willing the arousal to go away.

* * *

Mads has a good thing with Sofie. They may work together (in different departments) and normally he’d never get involved with someone at work, but she’s uncomplicated. If either of them are single and want to get together to fool around, they make plans. They go out, have dinner, drink a little and then go home together. Sometimes it’s his place, sometimes it’s her’s. If one of them is dating, they don’t bother. Neither of them get jealous and neither of them are clingy. It’s a good arrangement. It’s one Mads has had for a few years now.

Granted, they’ve never had sex when someone else was in his home. Mads had seen Hugh’s shoes by the door, so he’s obviously here. But he’s not about to tell Sofie to quiet down. It’s still his house after all, and it’s only after 1…

Fuck. He really shouldn’t be thinking about his more or less half-adopted university student down the hall while he’s fucking someone else. Mads is pretty sure it’s rude. Bad manners at the very least. But he’s seen a lot of Hugh only in boxers, seen a lot of pale skin, lean limbs, his hips, the brush of hair under his belly button leading to…

Mads groans as Sofie clenches around him after apparently finding a good angle. 

“Touch yourself, Sof, want to feel you come with me inside,” Mads encourages.

She gives a breathless laugh, “Want this to be a quick one, do you?”

Maybe he does. He’s lost track of time, but Mads isn’t actually concerned with lasting long. He’s not here to make any records. She listens, reaching a hand between her legs. 

“Good girl, just like that,” Mads praises after she begins to get a little louder.

Mads closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath as he continues to fuck into the willing body before him. Unfortunately, he’s got Hugh on the brain and he’d rather picture him in Sofie’s position. He wants to hear if Hugh would be noisy, how he would sound…

* * *

Hugh has only cursed his relatively sensitive hearing a few times before. First had been in grade school when a kid down the hall had gotten sick in a different classroom. Second had been the few times he’d heard his parents in the night (earplugs had quickly been an investment). Third had been upon arriving in America and suffering the blaring horns in the rougher parts of the city late at night. All in all it’s not much to complain about but it does create one Hell of a problem _now_.

Because he doesn’t want to be listening in (or does he? There is one part of him that remembers Mads in those boxers after that first night…) but it’s hard not to. The music is loud enough to mostly obscure some sound but Mads is apparently trying not to wake him up by blaring it. The issue is that his door isn’t completely closed; there’s the barest sliver of light that Hugh can see from the middle of the hallway. Because the door is cracked, more sound does come out, and because he’s a bloody bat sometimes, he’s left to listen to each of the woman’s cries and moans and the low, rumbling, almost indecipherable sound of Mads’ voice.

Hugh’s throat sticks the first time he tries to swallow and it takes him three more tries to manage. His face feels hot and that’s not all that does. He squirms, hand between his legs, and in his defense, he _does_ try and think about something else - anything else.

Unfortunately he catches snippets of words. It’s nothing without context - 'touch, feel, inside’ - and that’s more than enough to wreck his control. Hugh looks around, breathing deep, and in the end he just hopes that no one comes out of Mads’ room afterwards. He guiltily resigns himself to listening; his headphones are back in his room. So he looks down at the floor, bites the inside of his lip, and tries not to picture what’s happening a few feet down the hall.

It doesn’t work.

The distant sound of skin slapping on skin gets louder, and the woman (Sof, Hugh thinks he hears) follows suit. He shivers, his cock aching, but as good as she sounds, she’s got nothing on the small snippet that Hugh does manage to hear: ’ _Good girl_.’

Hugh isn’t expecting the frisson of dual heat and irritation the words bring with them. He frowns; it’s not really jealousy because he doesn’t have anything to be jealous about. Still, the longer he circles the irritation, the closer to jealousy it seems, which is… a really bad idea. Hugh swallows again and presses his hand flat to the outline of his cock in his jeans. He shouldn’t. It’s an equally bad idea. But while he has jerked off a few times since coming to live here, he’s not done it in Mads’ house yet. It had felt somewhat disrespectful, or like he’d been courting danger. Now, aching, with the sound of sex superimposed in the background, Hugh hesitates only for a few seconds longer before he reaches down to undo his belt and pop the button on his jeans. He doesn’t free his cock; he’s not an _idiot_. He does rub at it through his boxers though and he bites back a small sound by biting at the back of his hand. Fuck, this is such a bad idea…

* * *

The problem, Mads decides, is that he’s not drunk. He’s barely buzzed. He’d offered to drive which meant getting legitimately drunk was out of the question. If he was drunk, he’d surely not be in his head so much. He wouldn’t be wondering what Hugh was doing (likely homework). He wouldn’t be worrying if Hugh could hear them (probably not with the doors closed and music playing). He wouldn’t be fantasizing about Hugh in Sofie’s position (and how Hugh would possibly– no, no).

But once the thoughts begin, they’re hard to not indulge. Mads is attracted to Sofie in every way. She may be older (really just _his_ age), but she’s in fantastic shape. She has long auburn hair and a slender body with great curves. She’s experienced and easy going. The exact type of person Mads wants to have in his bed. They’re both comfortable with each other and while she comments about Mads wanting to make this quicker, there’s no taunting in her tone. They both can appreciate a quick fuck.

Because not everything needs to be drawn out, so Mads doesn’t really give a shit if he starts fucking Sofie harder and with the intent for her to come. He makes sure to pace himself, to focus on keeping his own orgasm at bay until she has hers (not that he _has_ to, he could take care of her afterwards). 

“I want my good girl to come for me,” Mads murmurs and she gives a soft laugh. He slaps her ass once and it has Sofie crying out in surprise.

Mads closes his eyes, listening to her escalating moans as his thrusts pick up. He wonders if Hugh would like to be spanked… if Hugh would even let him. And God, that shouldn’t be a thing, but he sees Hugh far too often in skimpy boxers and now he just wants to worship that ass. Touch it, caress it, run his nails across it, spread it open–

It’s almost a relief when he hears and then feels Sofie climax. Mads follows up quickly after, groaning with thoughts of Hugh’s ass on his mind as he fills the condom.

* * *

This isn’t just a bad idea, this is an idea that could get him kicked out of the house. That’s the problem. One of Mads’ rules had been not to tip-toe around, but there’s so much he could possibly do to piss Mads off. Hugh doesn’t know him, doesn’t know his quirks. He doesn’t know if Mads would find the way Hugh taps his pencil on the desk irritating, or the way he’ll constantly toe one of his socks off when he’s studying, simply because he gets overheated and it’s subconscious. He doesn’t know if Mads would snap at him for accidentally humming when the music in his headphones is too loud, and Hugh doesn’t even want to _think_ about what Mads might do were Hugh too loud jerking off. So he’s just been trying to not piss the guy off. It’s not been simple, but this is the first night it feels literally impossible.

Because Hugh can hear the slap of skin on skin from down the hall. He can hear Sof’s moans, can hear the frantic way her cries get louder and louder as the sounds of skin on skin also get louder. Mads is quiet (mostly; Hugh has a flicker of a memory that Mads _can_ be more vocal when he wants to be, if the tongue on his cock is clever enough) but that doesn’t mean that Hugh can’t hear him. It’s a violation of Mads’ privacy; he knows that. It also doesn’t stop him from biting the back of his hand, setting his back against the wall, and rubbing himself through his boxers.

There’s no pretending that he’s just trying to stave off orgasm now. As Sof cries out and the sound of fucking gets louder despite the music, Hugh muffles his own softer sounds against the back of his hand, then just abandons the effort and slaps his hand over his mouth instead. It makes his breathing a little harder through his nose but it means he can focus on grinding in against the palm of his hand, eyes closing guiltily as he lets himself go.

Hugh’s head tips back against the wall as he circles his own hips, breathing rough. He doesn’t know how long he’s been touching himself when Mads’ friend’s cries suddenly get louder. There’s a frantic edge to them and she does sound good, but Hugh’s attention is suddenly so fucking sharp. He holds his breath, cock throbbing, a wet patch already bleeding out at the front of his boxers as he goes quiet and listens.

It doesn’t take long for Mads to come after that, and the sound - God, the sound - is so _hot_. Hugh knows he shouldn’t be here. He knows it’s not for him to listen to, but he can’t help it. He hears the way Mads sounds, listens to the physical sound of his orgasm, and then Hugh shudders, hastily yanking his hand from his pants and turning around. In the dazed moments of what has to be the afterglow, he yanks his door open (and prays that Mads doesn’t hear it) and then shuts it tight. Hugh locks it, for all the good it’ll do, and within seconds he throws himself onto his bed, climbs under the sheets, and shoves his hand down his boxers.

It’s not elegant. It’s not drawn out. It’s hardly even an effort. Hugh’s so fucking wired just by listening that he feels close the moment he touches himself, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t bite back his groans. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t let himself imagine Mads’ cock in his mouth again. And, though he’s never done anything like it before, he pictures what it could have felt like to be in the lady’s position.

Using his mouth, using his hands… Hugh’s never felt like he’s been missing out on anything. He’s always been satisfied with that. But with the memory of Mads’ deep groan in his mind coupled with the sound of skin on skin, Hugh suddenly aches to know what it might feel like. 

_“Fuck…”_ he breathes, half-choked, and he jerks himself off quick and desperate. Would it feel good? Would it hurt? Would Mads fuck him like he’d fucked his friend, or would he fuck him slow so he could get used to it? Hugh gnaws at his lower lip, heel slipping a little on the bed as he rolls his hips up into the frantic pumping and twisting of his hand, and his thoughts only spiral from there. Hugh’s moans are breathy and quiet, his breathing ragged, and as he rubs his thumb quick under the head of his cock, he wonders how Mads would have fucked him that first night if Hugh hadn’t passed out.

He comes so hard he swears he can feel it all the way down to his toes, a wrenching warmth of pleasure that has him turning on his bed. Hugh buries his face against his pillow to muffle the sound of his moans, and he shudders as he comes all over his boxers and his hand with thoughts of Mads in his mind.

It’s only ten minutes later when Hugh realizes his clothes are slick with come. He looks down at himself, at the wet spot on his jeans. His boxers are clearly a mess; they _feel_ like they are, but he still doesn’t get up. Instead an odd mix of guilt, shame, and arousal flicker through him. He swallows, looks down at his come-covered hand, and then sleepily wipes it off on his jeans. Food and water forgotten, Hugh climbs up onto his feet long enough to turn off his lamp and undress, and then he climbs back into bed. He’ll need to put a load of wash through first thing in the morning, just in case Mads meets him there early. Still, practical thoughts swirling in Hugh’s head or not, as he lays there that evening, the words _good girl_ keep coming back to him. In the safety of his room, Hugh shudders.

* * *

Given that he drove them both, Sofie spends the night. It’s no big deal to Mads. He has no problem sharing his bed. They don’t cuddle or anything – they don’t need to. Usually Hugh sleeps in a little on the weekend, so Mads plans to get up at his normal time and have breakfast with Sof. He’ll then drive her to the pub to pick up her car before Hugh even ambles downstairs (and likely in his goddamn boxers no less).

So, if everything goes according to plan, it should be all right for both of them to be in their underthings in the kitchen. Mads is wearing silk grey boxers with black stripes… and Sofie is in last night’s matching set of black lingerie that somehow managed to have embroidered bits that he hadn’t noticed before. He’d honestly been more interested in getting her _out_ of them than taking in any details. She’s wandering around the kitchen with a glass of orange juice while he’s preparing to grind coffee for the French press.

“You’re distracting me,” Mads comments, but there’s amusement in his tone. Like he really wants her to put more clothes on…

She laughs lightly, unbothered by the insinuation, “Just don’t go grind a finger off.”

“Yes, I like my fingers too.” They share a grin before he goes back to the fancy schmancy coffee preparation. It definitely tastes better, but all the extra work… He likes his 12-cup brewer just fine.

He’s pouring them coffee when, of course, Hugh is heard making his way down the stairs. Great. Sofie gives him a wink.

* * *

Hugh wakes early as far as he’s concerned, and while he hesitates for a while in bed to listen for any sounds of movement from downstairs, he doesn’t hear anything. His door is closed and locked still and the sound is muffled, but a quick glance at the bulky watch on his wrist tells him it’s _way_ earlier than he’s used to getting up. Last night lingers in his mind in a hazy sort of way but the downside to trying to get up this early on a weekend is that Hugh isn’t exactly a morning person. He’s more willing to roll over in bed and grunt away any attempt to wake him up until he has the promise of coffee. So that he’s even awake right now is miracle enough.

It takes him upwards of five minutes to remember _why_ he needs to go downstairs, and just like that, the haze over the events of last night vanishes. Hugh remembers everything. He remembers the sounds of sex, of Sof’s moans, and Mads’ soft groan. He remembers _good girl_ and he remembers the way he’d all but collapsed in bed and jerked off desperately. Heat floods his face and for a moment he can hardly believe he’d done it, but the thought of Mads waking up and being downstairs before Hugh is able to wash the evidence away is really good motivation to move his arse.

Hugh stuffs the come-covered clothing in a small hamper and - just in case - he throws a few more shirts into the basket than is strictly necessary, as if to hide it. To his credit, he does throw on a pair of boxers before he walks to the door and unlocks it, slipping out.

As further proof that there are still times where Hugh can be an idiot, he doesn’t wear anything else. He doesn’t normally; usually he’s too tired to think about clothes and coffee is vastly more important. For just that split second, he forgets. Had the kitchen been empty, there wouldn’t have been a problem.

The kitchen isn’t empty.

Hugh realizes this when he’s far enough down the stairs that retreat is no longer an option. He smells coffee, hears the sounds of movement, and freezes on the stairway. Mads is awake then, and if the lingering scent of perfume and the decidedly _feminine_ laugh he hears is any indication, Mads isn’t alone. Hugh considers turning back around (because really, the only thing worse than meeting Mads’ apparent _friend_ is meeting her when he’s half-naked and carrying laundry) but he’s far too late as then there is a _very_ under-dressed woman in rather distracting lingerie winking at him. Hugh doesn’t trip, but it’s a near thing.

“Well _hello_ there,” she says, and Hugh feels his face heat. There’s something embarrassing about saying hello _after_ he’s heard her having sex. “You must be Hugh. Mads, you didn’t tell me he was cute.”

“Wh–I’m–” Hugh shifts, because suddenly he is very aware of the fact that he’s wearing basically nothing in front of two people who are in the same boat. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t realize you were–”

“ _And_ British.” Sofie turns back to look at Mads, lifting both eyebrows. “Keeping him a secret.” Smiling, she glances back at Hugh and beckons him in, looking quite pleased when he just hugs the laundry basket a little closer and awkwardly shuffles into the kitchen. “Your accent… around Staffordshire?”

Hugh just blinks. “Uh. Yes. How did– beg pardon, I didn’t get, uh, your name,” he adds, though it’s a lie.

If Sofie notices, she doesn’t seem to care. She’s far more amused with the way Hugh is making a concentrated (failed) effort to not look at her chest. “I have friends from around there. My name is Sofie. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Hugh just nods, trying his damndest not to gape. “Pleasure’s all mine. G'morning, Mads,” he adds, a little quieter, clearly awkward.

* * *

So, everyone in their underwear is not exactly a normal way to conduct first introductions and whatnot, but hey, he’s European. Mads is also modeling a healthy sex life for Hugh, right? His arrangement with Sofie is a respectful forward thinking type of thing. Unconventional, maybe, but not unheard of.

Hugh looks surprised by them – likely by Sofie’s state of undress because Mads in boxers isn’t nothing new, at least on the weekends. Hugh also looks more awake that he normally does given the time. Mads doesn’t know why laundry had seemed so important to do first thing in the morning, but for whatever reason, Hugh decided that he would start a load.

At least until Sofie begins engaging and distracting him. Mads decides to pour Hugh a mug of coffee and prepare it for him. He knows Sofie is going to give it to Hugh. Coo all over him.

’ _Mads, you didn’t tell me he was cute.’_

“Yeah, cute,” Mads mutters. Like he needs Sofie bugging him about this too now.

All in all, Sofie mostly behaves as she teases Hugh and himself. Yes, Mads hadn’t told her _all_ the details, but she knew enough. Christ, he hadn’t even told his family yet. Phil’s definitely on the 'continue to keep it a secret’ list. Sofie may be chatty now, but he knows she won’t spread it around the office.

He can see that Hugh is uncomfortable by the display of skin from Sofie. Sof is loving it, of course. She’d probably pet Hugh if she could, gather him up to her bosom and stroke his hair. Mads slides Hugh’s coffee over to him on the island. 

“Hey kid, she’s harmless, don’t mind her–”

“Excuse me?” Sofie interrupts, her free hand coming to rest on her hip. She’s grinning. “Don’t let him tell you what to do now, be a free thinker.”

Mads gives her an unimpressed look. “He has some rules, but they’re all fair–”

“Look at you, Daddy makin’ the rules,” she taunts back and then takes a sip of the coffee

“For that I should spank you right here and right now,” Mads snorts.

* * *

Hugh is in over his head. It’s apparent immediately. Sofie is full of personality and she seems perfectly relaxed whilst walking around in _very_ appealing lingerie. He does his best to be respectful, to avoid staring, but despite being probably twice his age - just like Mads - she looks good. She looks _really_ good. Her legs are long, her hips shapely, and she has nice curves. Her hair looks soft, and though he keeps trying not to look, the embroidered pattern on her bra really accentuates just how well-endowed she is. He shifts, looking from her forehead to her shoulders, then at her hands. There’s no safe place to look; it’s all skin, and Hugh is pretty sure that looking up at the ceiling will just be obvious.

He’s trying not to look at Mads. Given what Hugh had heard last night, he isn’t sure he can handle seeing him just in his boxers again. He wishes he were older, then, or that he’d jerked off before coming downstairs. Right now his only hope is that he doesn’t start getting hard in mixed company; God, this had been a bad idea.

The offering of coffee gives him something to focus on and Hugh takes it gratefully. While he’s a little careful in setting the hamper down close by but not close enough to be able to see any of the stains, he shoots Mads a quick, thankful smile that likely looks insanely awkward. He still takes the coffee though, and his hands wrap reflexively around the mug. He’s traded his hamper for a coffee mug, but it’s still a distraction, still a barrier.

Mads must see that he’s out of his depth, but it doesn’t really help. Sofie isn’t exactly shy about looking him over and Hugh fights the urge to squirm under the possibly-appreciative scrutiny. He has a moment to sip at his coffee as Mads snags Sofie’s attention, but there is _absolutely_ no way that Hugh can hear the words 'Daddy’ and 'spank’ without going red. Which he does.

To his credit, he doesn’t choke on his coffee, but it’s a near thing. He must make some sound though, because whatever Sofie had been about to say suddenly cuts off. Hugh watches her look back at him and his heart sinks as she all but beams at him. He can feel the flush crawling down his neck. Fuck.

“Oh, aren’t you just _precious_ ,” Sofie coos. She’s clearly endeared, and Hugh wants to cover his face. He doesn’t. “No need to be embarrassed. We’re all adults here.”

There’s a mild inflection in her voice and that small uncertainty just embarrasses him more. He nods quickly to confirm that _yes_ , fuck, he’s an adult. “I’m not… I’m not embarrassed. This is just… different.”

Sofie sends him a smile that tells him she doesn’t believe him for a second, but she’s at least kind enough not to mention it. “What is? The way we’re dressed, or Mads threatening to spank someone? At least I _assume_ that’s different,” she adds, casting Mads a sidelong look.

Hugh’s reasonably sure he’ll never stop being red in the face. Something twists inside, something that feels dangerously like a nervous arousal, and he makes a quick sound, waving a hand in the air awkwardly. “No, no, he hasn’t– I mean _yes_ it’s different. He hasn’t ever–” Good God, the floor needs to open up anytime now. Hugh looks pained. “It’s… the clothing. I don’t want to be rude.”

If anything, Sofie looks even more endeared. She looks at him and then lets out a small laugh, smiling wider. “Sweetheart, you’re down here in your underwear too. I’m not going to be offended if you look. I mean, what’s the point of buying lingerie if I can’t show it off a little, especially to _two_ attractive men.” She shoots Hugh a small smirk. “And if it’s Mads, he doesn’t mind. The more people that fantasize about him, the happier he is. Isn’t that right?”

* * *

The kid looks awkward. Mads wonders if it’s just because of Sofie’s dress (or lack thereof) or Sofie herself. Or maybe Hugh heard them last night? Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have–

Wait. No, no. This is _his_ house. He can fuck whoever he wants, whenever he wants. Mads hadn’t been rude. He’d had music on. It’s a weekend too. He can’t be letting his charity case turn everything upside down. Hugh’s just a kid he’s helping out. That’s all.

But watching Hugh and Sofie interact… It should feel awkward (and it is)… And yet he feels a little sorry for Hugh. Obviously the kid had just been intending to start a load of laundry earlier and not be greeted to a show of skin and him joking around with spanking. But Mads has never been been exactly good at holding himself back.

And of course Sofie is giving Hugh a hard time, asking him about the spanking more directly (Mads’ fault technically) and Hugh predictably is blushing and stammering. Mads’ answering grin is hidden as he turns to rummage in the fridge for breakfast supplies. He’s trying to steer his mind back onto safer topics, but then he hears:

_'And if it’s Mads, he doesn’t mind. The more people that fantasize about him, the happier he is. Isn’t that right?’_

That comment has Mads rolling his eyes as he begins pulling out ingredients for a simple omelet: eggs, some green onion, cheese, mushrooms. “Yes, Sof, you know me so well,” Mads replies gamely. “But it’s not like that.”

“ _Oh_? It’s not, is it?”

He shoots her an exasperated look from over his shoulder. Sofie grins and blinks innocently as she sips on her coffee. 

“I’m helping him out. And it’s not like I sleep with everyone. Not even close.” He has no plans on telling her that he’s _already_ had a sample of Hugh. And as far as single men his age, he really isn’t that much of a dog.

“No, no, I suppose not,” Sofie agrees and comes to sit on a barstool next to Hugh. She’s content to watch Mads prepare breakfast _and_ be next to the cute young thing. “But it would be convenient.” She raises an eyebrow.

* * *

There’s a small part of Hugh that wants to sink through the floor. Honestly he isn’t sure he can be blamed. The situation has rapidly devolved and in the end, as much as he’d like to clutch the hamper close and hide, he relents. The hamper sits by his feet as he cradles his coffee and tries to keep his eyes on the counter, but it’s not really possible with Mads and Sofie bantering back and forth. Hugh hasn’t exactly been here for a long time, but Mads has a markedly different dynamic with Sofie than he has with him. Hugh’s too flustered to decide whether or not it bothers him (though he suspects it does). He’ll figure it out later, when he doesn’t have a mostly-naked woman taking a seat next to the one he’d reluctantly taken.

The knowledge that Mads apparently approves of people fantasizing about him decreases his guilt over the night before a little. Still, Hugh darts a surreptitious look over at Mads as he begins to take things out of the fridge. Hugh can’t see what he’s grabbing, but he _can_ see Mads in his boxers and– right. Bad idea. He glances back down, though not before Sofie catches him looking. Hugh lifts his mug to his lips to sip at his coffee and despite his embarrassment, he does take one thing away: Mads isn’t inclined to tell her that they’d spent the night together. He files it away.

“He’s gone over and above for me,” Hugh quickly chimes in, because talking about Mads helping him seems easier than letting Sofie imply anything. He’s very aware of her next to him, and while _he’s_ not looking at her, she doesn’t seem to have the same hesitation. “I was… at the end of my rope, and he saved my ass. I’ve been trying to keep out of his way.”

“Trust me,” Sofie says, her smile smooth, and then she lowers her voice almost conspiratorially. “An adorable thing like you? Don’t be so sure he wants you out of his way. A cute young thing living with me… I know I wouldn’t.”

Which… does absolutely nothing to make Hugh feel _less_ embarrassed. He’s definitely still red in the face as he clears his throat and then finally darts a little look at Sofie instead. He doesn’t have to look for long to catch her pleased smirk and it just makes him feel even more out of his depth. 

“I… thank you. But I, uh… I don’t think–”

“Oh my god,” Sofie says, and there’s no disguising the amusement in her voice as she sets her elbow on the counter and leans her chin down on the back of her hand. She watches Hugh’s gaze drop ever so slightly and her grin widens; this position does do wonders for the lingerie, that’s for sure. “You’re _achingly_ adorable, sweetheart. I could eat you up.”

She turns back to look at Mads as Hugh immediately goes for his coffee again - apparently a standard response for being overwhelmed. “Mads, when you first told me you had a live-in, a part of me thought you were trying to scope out a threesome. I don’t do threesomes, too complicated,” Sofie adds to Hugh, conversationally, who splutters a little into his coffee cup. 

“But he is absolutely _darling_. If ever you change your mind about not _just_ helping him out, do be a dear and dress him up. You look like you’d dress to impress,” she finishes, turning her attention back to Hugh.

Hugh just stares at her, absolutely caught off guard. People actually talk like this? Yes. Yes, apparently they do. “I’m not exactly _hopeless_ , Ma'am. I–”

“ _Ma'am?_ ” Sofie laughs, and laughs harder when she sees Hugh wince. “Oh, Mads, please tell me he calls you 'Sir’. You’d love that.”

“I- I have worn suits before,” Hugh cuts in, a little harder. “Often. I just didn’t bring any with me when I moved here for school. I _can_ dress myself.”

“Good to know.” Sofie sends him a small look. It’s appraising, curious, and there’s a definite edge of mischief in her eyes that makes Hugh go quiet when she adds, “But I wasn’t only talking about suits. Just food for thought.”

* * *

This hadn’t been how Mads envisioned the morning going, but he’d be lying if he said there isn’t a tiny part that _likes_ seeing Hugh down here and all awkward. He’s pretty sure that Sofie and him aren’t going to mess up Hugh – the kid _is_ an adult.

And even if things do blow up, it would be better now than later, surely. If Hugh turns out to be some super conservative asshole, Mads doesn’t want to be stuck with him. Tuition paid, Hugh could could go on his merry way and find some other living arrangement.

But… He’d rather not have Hugh leave because the company _has_ been nice. Under normal circumstances, Mads would never get a roommate. But in wanting to make a real difference in Hugh’s life, Mads has gained a roommate and even possibly a friend? 

When Hugh mentions that he’s been _trying_ to keep out of his way, Mads glances over at the student and frowns. He’d simply thought it was Hugh’s personality… Now that he knows, he’s a little unhappy about it. Mads doesn’t want to be seen as some rich benefactor that needs to be avoided. He wants them to be comfortable around each other, but he supposes Hugh can’t help but want to be on his best behavior given everything Mads has done.

Of course Sofie is just laying it on thick. Mads turns back to the meal prep. ’ _I could eat you up.’_ A scoff is heard from Mads. 

“No eating anyone, we don’t do cannibalism here,” he remarks in jest. 

And then Sofie is commenting on threesomes and fucking dressing up Hugh (well Mads had noticed a few rather threadbare sweaters on the kid).

Mads begins chopping and he’s damn impressed he doesn’t cut anything off when he hears Sofie joking about the whole Sir thing. (Okay, okay, it can be somewhat hot, in certain situations.)

Sofie’s “food for thought” does just that. Mads glances between the two of them - Hugh flushed and bare chested, Sofie grinning and with her fancy lingerie on - and he can’t help but think of _Hugh_ wearing lingerie. Something lacy and sheer and _fuck_ , Mads wants to cup Hugh’s ass wearing some skimpy panties, to mouth at Hugh’s dick through the lace–

Right now Mads is glad he’s got the counter in between him and the other two nearly-naked people. He focuses on cooking and thankfully Sofie lets up and she asks about Hugh’s classes and impressions of New York. 

His arousal at the thought of Hugh in lingerie and being touched by him has at least died down by the time they take to the table.

* * *

It takes Hugh far longer than he wants to admit to understand what Sofie is implying. After her comment, he’s left staring, frowning, his brow furrowed in confusion. She wasn’t talking about suits? Hugh’s protest is silenced because he doesn’t know what he’s protesting anymore. He looks over at Mads for clarification but Mads is just looking at him and for a second, Hugh wants to shift in his seat. He’s sure he’s wrong, but just for a split second, he thinks he sees something almost hungry in Mads’ eyes. It’s gone the next second and it only leaves Hugh feeling even more confused.

It isn’t until Sofie glances down at herself and then looks over at Hugh with a pointed lift of her eyebrows that he gets it. Predictably, Hugh is flustered, but he doesn’t protest. How the Hell is he supposed to protest the idea that Mads should dress him up like a woman? Or at least put him in lingerie? The thought is ludicrous; Hugh doesn’t look like a–

But then he remembers the way Mads had looked at him and Hugh almost feels the pause smack him in the face. He blinks. Had Mads known what Sofie had been talking about? Had that look been real? If it had then it means he’s… 

Hugh blinks a few more times, stunned, maybe a little uncertainly hopeful. But before he can say anything, before he can make a complete idiot out of himself, Sofie apparently decides that he’s had enough.

Her topics change to school, and his thoughts about New York. While her demeanor doesn’t change a lot, there’s a hint of real curiosity and professionalism there and Hugh immediately understands what Mads sees in her. Slowly he relaxes, and by the time Mads places plates down in front of them both, Hugh’s talking animatedly. He pauses to thank Mads and the food kind of halves his attention but he doesn’t stop talking. It’s immediately apparent that he’s got passion for what he’s studying, that art and performance art are passions of his.

While Hugh misses it (because he’s too busy wolfing down a few bites of breakfast) Sofie sends Mads a _very_ knowing look halfway through the meal. There’s no questioning the fact that she’s amused, nor is there any question as to _why_ Mads likes the kid.

Breakfast is a much simpler affair after that. They get to talking about work - Hugh finally finding the confidence in having Sofie there to ask a little more about what Mads does - and more general information. He finds out that Mads likes to ride his bike and run and swim (and Hugh silently makes a mental note to try and get up a little earlier, just in case he wouldn’t mind having company). He learns that Mads has known Sofie for more than just a few years, and there’s no denying the familiarity and the chemistry between them.

Breakfast is comfortable, and Hugh is honestly a little sad to see it end. He offers to clean up so Mads and Sofie can go and get dressed, and when he’s done, he hastily puts that load of laundry through. Granted, he hadn’t really thought everything through. It’s… more than a little embarrassing to be the only one in his underwear when they come back downstairs, but aside from a very clear ogle from Sofie, there’s no teasing. It doesn’t take long to find out that Mads needs to drive Sofie back to her car and so Hugh nods his understanding and bids them both goodbye. 

Sofie, as it so happens, insists on pulling him into a hug and kissing his cheek, and Hugh valiantly pretends he’s not a flustered wreck afterwards. He bids them both goodbye and then hastens upstairs to get dressed and to try and work on a little schoolwork. But before he does anything else, he guiltily thinks back to Sofie’s hug and kiss, and then on that brief glimpse of heat Mads had sent him, and - checking to make sure Mads’ car is gone - Hugh slips his hand down into his underwear to do what he _should_ have done before coming downstairs in the first place.


	4. You're... you're serious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I… I am _so_ sorry,” Hugh stammers, still shuddering, still gasping softly as he squirms through his pleasure. Mads’ hands on his skin should be illegal, they feel so good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by this content, smug face of sin: (￣ω￣)
> 
> Mads written by Merry ([tumblr](http://merrythought.tumblr.com)) | Hugh written by Dapperscript ([tumblr](http://reallymisscoffee.tumblr.com/))

Thank God no other scandalous topics are brought up over their morning meal. Between mentioning the idea of Hugh calling him Sir, threesomes and implying that he ought to dress Hugh up, Mads is pretty sure he doesn’t _want_ to know what other trouble Sofie could get them into. Damn woman… She is incorrigible at the worst of times… (He doesn’t really mind as she definitely keeps things interesting.)

They leave Hugh and the drive is companionable. Sensing his mood, she doesn’t tease him or ask anymore about Hugh. They discuss work and it’s a nice break from the morning excitement that Mads is grateful for. Oh, he’s sure he’ll get an earful on Monday, but he can handle it. That’s for Monday. Today is Sunday. He got laid. Life is good.

His attraction to Hugh is just a small complication. He can handle it. He will handle it. He _has_ been handling it…. Yeah, he has been. Mads is doing a good thing here, he’s not going to mess it up because his dick has an interest in Hugh. Thankfully he’s a grown man and he _can_ keep it in his pants.

Hugh is a good kid. He deserves a chance to make his dreams come true. Mads doesn’t want to complicate his life. Hugh deserves a real girlfriend or a boyfriend, someone his age, someone going to school, someone he can actually relate to. Mads is… Mads isn’t the person for him. Mads is that one night stand who turns out to not be a complete asshole - which is good - but he’s too old and set in his ways to be any sort of catch. Mads feels a bit washed up, like the time for romance and love has passed him.

* * *

It’s a week later and the two of them are sitting on the couch with the TV on. It’s a cooking show on the screen where an over-enthusiastic host has now been muted. Hugh has a textbook in his lap, but doesn’t look like he’s too engrossed in it. 

So Mads decides to ask, “You miss your parents at all? Your friends back home?” He’s never really asked anything this personal, but it’s been a month now and he feels comfortable enough to talk this openly.

* * *

While initially Hugh is concerned that things will be weird the next few days following Sofie’s visit, things actually turn out all right. Mads doesn’t seem uncomfortable when he comes back, and they actually manage to joke around a little as Hugh takes his clothes out of the dryer. It’s tentatively comfortable for awhile; Hugh isn’t exactly sure what he’s allowed to do or what it’s best to do, but after fielding a few uncertain hours in Mads’ company, he soon realizes that nothing has changed. Mads isn’t pissed with him, he’s apparently not uncomfortable, and it doesn’t take too long for life to return to normal.

Hugh eats breakfast with Mads each morning and sometimes promptly goes right back to bed for more sleep. Mads finds him passed out on the couch on more than one evening, textbooks sprawled all over his chest, and Hugh has only the vaguest of hopes that Mads doesn’t catch him drooling in his sleep. He doesn’t think he does, unless he’s _really_ tired. Unfortunately for Hugh, he never remembers waking up. He only remembers struggling to fix his books while Mads stands over him, looking torn between amusement and exasperation. There’s no reprimand, though.

They eat together most nights, but Hugh works at the library sometimes so he misses dinner, and one night now and then Mads chooses to stay late or go out after work. As the week goes on, it doesn’t take long for the comfortable sensation to return. Hugh begins to relax again and he’s around to help Mads out with dishes and laundry more. They talk a little, they joke, sometimes Hugh staggers downstairs to flop on the couch and demands ‘telly’ (which earns him a little mocking at first). By the time Hugh grunts and lightly kicks Mads on the couch one evening, he’s begin to realize that maybe he can get away with more than he thinks he can. Things are better, easier, less uncomfortable.

Hugh jerks off. A lot. If Mads notices the occasional load of laundry, he doesn’t comment.

So the Sunday after Sofie leaves, Hugh sits downstairs with Mads, a textbook open on his lap. He’s not really paying attention to it (English Lit. isn’t his favorite). There’s a cooking show on in the background and Hugh is trying to figure out whether or not the dish being cooked is turkey or chicken (he honestly can’t tell with it muted) when suddenly Mads, who’s seated beside him, chimes in with a question that catches Hugh off guard. He tenses a little, then looks over at Mads, silent for a few seconds.

After a glance at the TV, Hugh marks his place in his textbook and closes it, then sets it over on the coffee table. He thinks on the question and then shrugs, drawing his feet up onto the couch so he can wrap his arms around his knees, picking away at a thread on the red sweatpants he’s wearing. If that gets boring, he’ll swap to his gray sweater. Much easier.

“Sometimes. We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms. I… don’t actually know how much I told you, uh, before. My parents aren’t bad people. They just… want what every parent wants I guess. Stability. Dad doesn’t want me to go into acting or art. Says it’s too cutthroat and I need a backup plan. Mum agrees with him. I haven’t called either of them since I moved in. And as for friends…” Hugh lets out a small snort. 

“No worries on that front. Clumsy theater kid with a large vocabulary and small muscles? Not really many lining up.”

* * *

His question has Hugh tensing. He’s aware that Hugh left on rather poor terms with his parents. Mads can’t imagine the balls it would take to leave everything behind and to not have your family’s support in such an endeavor. Mads hadn’t been able to do it. He’d chosen the smart option, went to school, got a relevant degree – all things his own parents could be relieved and proud over. And he’s done well for himself, he really has. Mads knows he’s lucked out.

He observes Hugh curl in on himself and Mads frowns thoughtfully as he listens to the answer. He’s not surprised that Hugh hasn’t called his folks, but he _is_ concerned. School with no family support? Mads glances back at the TV screen, not in a hurry to respond. He watches the bubbly host for a moment, wondering if he should be blunt.

Mads decides to simply be himself. 

“You should call your parents sometime,” he says. “They’re probably worried to death over their little boy.” Mads elbows Hugh to lighten the mood. “And I do hope you consider me a friend.” He doesn’t comment on Hugh’s clumsy nature… The kid isn’t lying. More than a few times he’s witnessed Hugh slip and trip. It’s kind of adorable, like watching a puppy fumble up the stairs.

* * *

Hugh isn’t exactly sure what he’s expecting, but having Mads turn to him and tell him to call his parents doesn’t really make the list. He tenses ever so slightly again and the frown he sends Mads after isn’t exactly pleasant. That said, in the end, Hugh just tells himself that Mads is taking an interest. After all, if he’s paying for some dumb kid to go to school, he does deserve the right to know a little more here and there. It makes sense. It doesn’t necessarily make it _easier_ but it does make sense. Hugh shifts a little and leans in, pressing his chin against his knees.

“I want to,” he confesses after a moment. “I’m just not sure what to expect. I’m pretty sure they’ll be ready for me to come back home but I’m not interested in going. Especially not now.” Hugh darts a little glance at Mads again and then reaches over. He’s gentle as he nudges Mads in return, a note of affection even if it is a little subdued.

“And I do. I mean, I know I’m not exactly the type you’d normally be friends with, so the fact you want to consider me one at all is… really great.” Hugh wets his lips, darts another look at Mads, and then looks back at the TV in front of them. “It’s been helping. I feel a lot better since moving in with you than I did on my own. I’m actually eating. I have time to study. I can get real sleep on occasion. Having a schedule is… helpful. Which, I know, sounds really weird from someone my age.” Hugh rolls his eyes. 

“But I’ve never really done the college thing. I don’t.. usually go out drinking. Or, uh… go home with anyone.” Hugh pointedly doesn’t look at Mads. Of course he’d segue into that. Why wouldn’t he? Way to go, Dancy.

* * *

Mads hadn’t exactly signed up for heart-to-heart chats or being some mentor-type, but apparently that’s what he’s doing. Or attempting to. Mads doesn’t really know. Caring about Hugh just sort of happened. The kid is good. Like a good human being. Most young adults are punks. Christ, he’d been a punk at Hugh’s age. But Hugh isn’t. Hugh doesn’t go party or drink or get into trouble. Hugh generally is passionate and talented from what Mads has seen. Hugh’s also a hard worker. Hugh deserves his help. It’d been just finances before. Money is easy. Mads has a lot of money at his disposal, but _support?_ Advice? Mads hopes he’s not stepping over some line. He also hopes his support and advice isn’t shit.

Thankfully it doesn’t look like he’s doing a bad job. Hugh seems receptive to the conversation on a whole. Maybe Hugh feels indebted to answer (not necessarily great, but not horrible if it gets Hugh to do the right thing). Hugh seems smaller and younger with his knees pulled up to his chest, but the gentle nudge paid back to him has Mads grinning softly in return. He’s really too fond of this kid.

“I’m glad living here is helping. You’re a hard worker, a good kid, you deserve some help,” Mads says easily. It hasn’t escaped him that Hugh had mentioned the ‘going home with anyone’ thing. Is that something he should bring up, though? Mads feels conflicted. It’s not like he _wants_ Hugh to be some horndog banging someone new every weekend, but he doesn’t want Hugh being a hermit either. 

“Make sure to relax some, too. Have fun. Can’t be all work and no play, you know what I mean?” Mads winks, hoping he isn’t coming off as creepy. He’s pretty sure Hugh’s parents wouldn’t like him encouraging their son to have a lot of sex. Oh well.

* * *

Like this, curled in on himself, Hugh feels caught but also somewhat safe. It’s only been a month living in Mads’ space - sharing his food, getting to know his schedule, helping him and Juliana around the house - and he’s kind of surprised to notice that he feels way more comfortable here than he ever had in his dorm. Mads is a friendly warmth at his side. He’s a good man. A _friend_. Hugh’s always been drawn to people older than him. He’d cringed back in grade school, watching how ridiculous his peers had been, and he’d spent most of the time talking with his teachers, getting to know them. Maybe that’s why he feels more comfortable here, but Hugh isn’t so sure it has anything to do with patterns. He’s pretty sure it has everything to do with _Mads_.

So Hugh smiles at him. The thought of calling his parents is a weight in the pit of his stomach but he knows Mads is right. He will… soon. Maybe. He’ll try, at least.

That smile does falter slightly when Mads continues, though. Hugh blinks, initially thrown, because he can’t possibly be hearing this properly. One look at the wink Mads sends him says otherwise, and Hugh feels something warm and almost giddy slide through him. He swallows, thinking back on the last few days since Sofie’s visit. He’s not really been sexually frustrated, but that’s because he’s been jerking off like a bloody teenager. Hugh wonders if maybe Mads has _heard_ him, but he dismisses that quickly. Mads is just responding to what he’d said, trying to be helpful, and Hugh sends the television a quick look, like he’s hoping it will give him a different topic of conversation. 

It fails him. The host is still muted, and as he looks at the screen, it goes to commercial.

Wetting his lips before drawing one between his teeth to nibble at, Hugh wills himself to _not_ react to the implication. In the end, he lets out a little breath of a laugh and ducks his head, awkward, but mostly sheepish. His fingers rake back through his hair.

“Thanks, Mads. I, uh… yeah, I know what you mean. But that isn’t really my… _thing_.” Hugh’s nose wrinkles; he’s aware of how immature that makes him sound, and it’s that thought that makes him quickly correct himself. “I don’t really get on with the people in my classes, and I haven’t really got time to go to a bar. Besides, I don’t really have anyone lining up in droves. You know?” 

Hugh flashes Mads a quick, sheepish smile. “You were sort of the exception, not the rule. Besides, if memory serves, we didn’t really do much.” Hugh’s reasonably sure that he didn’t get off that night. He can’t really remember. So getting off with someone is something he hasn’t done since long before coming to America.

* * *

As strange as it is, there’s a level of comfort he feels around Hugh. At least that’s what Mads believes it to be. He’d rather think of Hugh as a friend than some adopted son or his charge. Mads would like to believe he can be a decent influence, but he’s not here to parent Hugh. Hugh has his own parents. He may think or call him a 'kid’ but Hugh isn’t a child. Mads wants Hugh to stay on the right track and all, but Hugh is pretty damn responsible for someone his age. More responsible than Mads had been at any rate. Hugh isn’t someone he could tell his darkest secrets to - not yet - but Mads is beginning to realize that Hugh has the potential to be. Mads has never needed close friendships, he doesn’t really have any other than his brother, but Hugh is wiser than his age would normally dictate.

His suggestion to have fun - to get laid occasionally - is met with a rather cute response. Hugh looks a little surprised, but then embarrassed as he hides his head and laughs lightly. Through his peripheral vision, Mads watches Hugh run his fingers through his hair, looking adorable as he explains that casual fun isn’t his thing. (Whereas Mads excels at such a thing.) 

Hugh mentions not having time and Mads wonders if he’s being too controlling with Hugh’s time, with a curfew, but midnight on a weeknight and 2AM on a weekend seems fair to him. He likes the company, but he doesn’t want Hugh’s social life to suffer. The kid doesn’t seem to have of one, however. 

Hugh says their drunken night had been an exception. Mads isn’t sure if he should feel flattered or like some mistake, but it’s in the past and there’s nothing he can do about it now.

“Hey, I would have done more, you passed out,” Mads states, almost affronted. He prides himself in his skills. He’s a giving lover. Always has been. If you were gonna get naked and possibly vulnerable with him, Mads likes to make sure it’s a good and memorable time. 

“You regret that we didn’t do much?” He can’t help but ask. He’ll blame it on his dick. It still works. Yeah, Hugh should be with someone his age, yeah this is perhaps a bad subject to get into, but too late.

* * *

Hugh wonders if this is really the best conversation to have, but it’s too late now. He’s not sure if it’s something he’d brought up because he’d been curious, or because his dick is still _very_ interested, but either way, it’s a topic he’s opened. He’s thrown the bloody door open, more like. But to his mutual relief and surprise, Mads doesn’t seem uncomfortable. If anything, he sees Hugh’s open door and strides right in, all friendliness and support and charm. 

It’s honestly Mads’ casual suggestion that Hugh go out and get laid that even makes Hugh relax some in the first place. When Mads looks at him and then says that he would have done more - sounding almost affronted - it’s so blunt and so _forward_ that Hugh’s embarrassment and awkwardness leaves him in a sudden rush, replaced with incredulous surprise.

He laughs, a sharp bark of a sound that he quickly muffles by biting his cheek, but when he looks at Mads again, the awkwardness is gone. Hugh just looks amused and sheepish, like he can’t quite believe that Mads had just come out with that.

(He tries to ignore the small part of himself that twists and squirms at the knowledge, the part of him that wishes he _hadn’t_ passed out. His prick. Hugh tries his hardest to ignore how interested it seems in the conversation; it’s _not_ helping.)

But hearing Mads’ last question - _you regret that we didn’t do much?_ \- Hugh’s amusement fades. _That_ sounds like a loaded question, but maybe it’s just because he tends to be somewhat neurotic. Mads doesn’t sound like he’s hinting at anything. He sounds genuinely curious. Still… there’s a small edge to his tone that Hugh can’t place, and he feels his pulse pick up as he considers Mads’ question. He already knows the answer. The question is whether or not he’s going to bloody _say_ anything.

Yes. Hugh swallows. It is a god-awful idea, but yeah, apparently he’s going to continue this topic. He’s known Mads for a month. They’re friendly. _Friends_. Maybe they’re close enough for this.

Hugh ducks his head, and his smile is somewhat sheepish again as he glances over at Mads. “Wouldn’t you? I mean… all right, it’s… this is going to sound so bloody ridiculous, but it’s… both? I’d have liked to experience it, but at the same time… the haze of alcohol doesn’t really lend itself to accurate memories. I _am_ embarrassed that I passed out,” Hugh adds, glancing away. 

“But I’m also somewhat relieved. If I’m going to go home with someone, I’d like to _remember_ it, you know? For um… for later.” He thinks he’s subtle enough, but the slight flush to his skin likely gives him away. Yeah, they’re having this conversation. Wonderful.

* * *

Mads know he’s straightforward. He’s blunt. It’s a part of his charm. Usually. Sometimes it gets him into trouble, but it’s his personality. He’s hardwired to not like to beat around the bush as they say. He hates that shit. He would rather be up front. Saves time, usually. Better manners to be honest than to ever lead someone on, too. People just love to assume things.

So, he asks what he asks and Hugh laughs somewhat awkwardly at the question. Mads isn’t bothered by the response. He gets that talking about sex-related topics can be embarrassing. Laughing is a pretty natural response to any socially awkward situation. Also, they haven’t discussed their drunken hook-up much either. 

When Hugh looks up at him, the kid doesn’t seem all that embarrassed though. Mads simply waits for an answer, comfortable and casual in such a conversation. Having had plenty of experience in this regard, Mads isn’t unnerved. He can’t begin to imagine what’s going on in Hugh’s head, though.

Hugh’s answer is thoughtful. Mads is genuinely surprised. He hadn’t been expecting the answer to be involved - just a yes or no. From what Mads understands, Hugh would have liked to have done more, but being drunk doesn’t ‘lend itself to accurate memories’ so it’s not necessarily a horrible thing to have passed out. There’s also a rather lovely flush to Hugh’s skin as he finishes speaking.

Mads is opening his mouth without thought. He can also be a little impulsive and it’s showing now. “Seeing as you passed out before, should I return the favor now?” His eyes flick toward Hugh’s crotch that’s currently hidden because Hugh’s knees are up by his chest. “No pressure, of course. You say no, I’ll drop it and won’t ask again. It won’t change anything between us, financially or friendship-wise.” 

Mads licks his lips before continuing, “You say _yes_ , and this could be a one-time thing or casual. Whatever you’d like.”

* * *

The conversation is not one that Hugh had intended to have, but given how quickly the conversation had turned from curiosity to… _this_ , he has to wonder if maybe this is something he’s been wanting to talk about for awhile. It’s certainly something he’s imagined before, but the reality makes him want to shift in his seat. He’d like to say he’s not embarrassed to be talking about sex or sexual things, but he’s nowhere near as experienced as Mads is. Mads clearly has no problem with this; he’s older, he’s had more experience… maybe he just doesn’t care as much anymore. Hugh does.

But that isn’t going to stop him from answering Mads’ questions. So he does, and while a part of him wants to kick himself for implying that he’d have jerked off to thoughts of sleeping with Mads, they’re both men. He’s sure Mads understands the benefit of good memories for lonelier nights. (Maybe, or maybe that’s when Mads reaches out to Sofie and they have a night like they did last week. The thought makes the flush to Hugh’s skin deepen and makes him curl his toes against the fabric of the couch.) In the end, Hugh feels a little more than just embarrassed over what he’d implied, and he’s a few seconds away from awkwardly laughing it off when Mads cuts in.

‘ _Seeing as you passed out before, should I return the favor now?’_

Hugh looks at Mads so quickly that his neck almost kinks. He’s glad he hadn’t been drinking anything, because he’s fairly certain he’d have choked. His jaw drops and he stares. He isn’t sure what to _do_ , but when Mads’ gaze drops pointedly to where Hugh has his knees to his chest, he realizes that _one_ part of his body knows exactly what it wants to do. Arousal races in so fast that it feels like it almost clotheslines him, and when Hugh swallows, the sound is so loud that he wants to cringe over being so bloody obvious.

“Uh…” Smooth. He knows he looks stunned, and maybe that’s why Mads lazily reassures him, telling him that there’s no pressure, that he could say no. The knowledge that nothing would change between them _does_ help, but it doesn’t stop him from gaping. Hugh’s only relief is that he doesn’t look horrified, just surprised. It gives him time to recollect his thoughts, and when he finally feels like he’s gathered them up off of the floor enough to answer, the flush to his cheeks isn’t all embarrassment.

“Are… are you serious?” Hugh asks quietly, and he almost wants to cringe away from how strangled he sounds. Again, smooth, Dancy. “I didn’t– I mean, I never thought– uh.” Hugh shakes his head and tries again. “I didn’t… think you were interested. I was kind of a git to you that morning, and you’ve been adamant about this… _not_ being sexual. And, uh, with Sofie…” 

Hugh trails off. He doesn’t _want_ to say no, he’s just hopelessly thrown and suddenly, embarrassingly hard. He squirms a little, trying to lessen the pressure.

* * *

Hugh apparently is shocked as hell by the suggestion, head whipping to look at him, mouth gaping. Mads doesn’t really understand _why._ Hugh is young and gorgeous, smart and interesting. Why _wouldn’t_ he want him sexually? Mads doesn’t want to be some creep here, but he knows Hugh is an adult. He’s not pressuring him into this. Hugh knows he’s got a casual arrangement with Sofie. If sex had been what he was after, he’d have acted a lot sooner than waiting a month. Hugh had been interested in him the night they met, so maybe he’d be okay with blowing off some steam?

That’s Mads reasoning, anyway. They can’t have any sort of relationship, of course. That’s completely off the table. If Hugh is too busy or uninterested in dating, Mads can at least be an outlet at home. It’d help him at least. Mads is tired of fantasizing about Hugh, seeing him in boxers and tired in the morning, passing him in the hall after Hugh slips out of the shower…

Mads figures there’s no harm in trying. He might as well know sooner rather than later if anything _could_ happen. If Hugh doesn’t want to worry about it, Mads has no plans on pushing for anything. He’s definitely not that kind of guy. He’s not desperate, but he’s not about to turn down something so damn convenient either.

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” Mads asks, an incredulous look on his face. “I was interested the night we met, wasn’t I? Just because you sucked my cock and need some help doesn’t make you suddenly _not_ appealing to me.” He shrugs. “And I remember what I said. I don’t want you to feel indebted is all. I believe it’s important that you know that I want you to succeed. Anything extra is nice, but not required. And Sofie? She doesn’t care. It’s casual with her. No strings attached. Like it would be with us. I’m not going to hold you back. You find someone you’re interested in, I’ll back right off.” 

Mads reaches a hand over and places it on Hugh’s knee. He smiles, charming and wolfish. He hadn’t heard anything that was a _no_ …

“So tell me, do you want me to suck your cock right now, Hugh?”

* * *

Hugh doesn’t say no because he doesn’t _want_ to. He’s not insane. While he can’t remember a lot about the night they’d spent together, he remembers being completely and utterly charmed, and he remembers being aroused. What he _can_ remember is the next morning, with Mads offering him the money. And while the memory that Mads had tried to pay him still makes him feel awkward, the memory of how _good_ he’d looked in those black boxers sure as Hell doesn’t. Sure, maybe he’s seen Mads dressed in a few… less-than-put-together ensembles in the past few weeks, but does it matter? Mads’ track suits and bright colors don’t make him any _less_ attractive. They don’t change the cut of his jaw or the fullness of his lips, and they sure as fuck doesn’t change the way he’s built.

The mental image of Mads standing in the kitchen in his boxers comes back to him, and Hugh’s prick aches as blood rushes south a little too quickly. Mads is older, sure, but he’s still hot. Maybe he’s a little soft around the middle, maybe his hair is beginning to edge closer to grey, but Hugh finds it appealing. Plus - and this is the most important part - he just… likes Mads. He’s a good man. He’s kind, benevolent, charming, and funny. He _cares_ , as is evidenced by his interest in whether or not Hugh is still in contact with his parents. 

So while Hugh’s cheeks burn and he awkwardly stumbles through his confusion, he never tells Mads _no_.

Mads’ resulting incredulity only makes Hugh feel hotter. Hearing Mads speak so bluntly about the night they’d spent together catches his attention, but Hugh is just relieved that Mads seems to be serious. He listens, he files away the vague terms - only casual; he can do casual - and when Mads reaches a large hand over to place on his knee, Hugh feels the heat all the way through his sweatpants. He hasn’t stopped looking at Mads once, and he knows he still looks shocked, and he knows he probably looks dazed or aroused, but he can’t help it.

_‘So tell me, do you want me to suck your cock right now, Hugh?’_

Hugh makes a small, strangled sound in the back of his throat, unable to help but look at the wolfish smile on Mads’ fucking _perfect_ lips. A tremor of heat slides through him, and then he unfolds himself. Hugh lets go of his knees and lets his bare feet drop back to the floor, and the eager rise in his sweatpants is so bloody obvious. 

“ _Fuck, yes_ ,” he breathes, his voice slightly rough. There’s already a soft tremor in his hands as he grabs at the seat. “I never thought you’d want to… I’ve been thinking about it since that morning.” Hugh wets his lips. “Please?”

* * *

There’s still a chance for this to stop - or rather - to not start at all. Mads won’t push it. He’s not despicable, he’s not desperate. He would never force Hugh. He wants Hugh to want it - to want _him_. It’s not enjoyable if his partner isn’t as interested or invested as he is. If his fantasies are any indication, Mads has been very interested. It had been important to not bring it up _until_ Hugh had been more settled, but Mads thinks - or hopes - they’re at that point now. It feels like they are, that they’ve reached some level of camaraderie.

He really wants to be at that point now. He feels the low, familiar thrum of arousal and while he’s not sporting a hard-on, Mads is definitely into this. Hugh looks interested. There’s the flushing, the way Hugh hasn’t looked away from him - his wide eyes, parted lips. God, this kid is gorgeous and Mads wants to make him feel great, to give Hugh a damn good time and take his mind off of the stresses of school and parents and the like. If anyone deserves it, Hugh Dancy does.

When the student’s legs straighten out, Mads can’t help but smile - pleased. It’s not Hugh getting up and going. It’s Hugh showing that he actually has an erection and _is_ definitely interested. Mads can see the tenting of the fabric around his crotch and when Hugh finally answers, his voice is just shy of desperate. 

And apparently Hugh has been wanting this for a while, too. The admission only has Mads’ smile widening, a hint of teeth showing.

“Of course, babe,” Mads answers and he wastes no time in rising. He thinks nothing of the so-called petname. He bends down, his hands landing on Hugh’s knees to get him to spread his legs and accommodate him going to _his_ knees. Mads then works on pulling the sweat pants down, while Hugh, thankfully, lifts his hips up to allow it. He purposefully leaves the grey Calvin Klein boxers where they’re at. 

Now that he is allowed to do this, Mads has no plan to rush it. He inches closer and lets his hand gently smooth Hugh’s cock down so it veers off to the side, it’s length nothing to laugh about. 

“A little teasing is always good, mm?” He doesn’t wait for an answer as he brings his mouth close and rubs his lips along the length, from the base to the tip. The fabric of the boxers is nothing special, but Mads wants Hugh to be efficiently worked up so he breathes hotly over the clothed erection, nuzzling it.

* * *

Hugh feels a little like Mads has pinned him in place with nothing more than the hint of his attention. It’s ridiculous and he knows it, but when Mads gets onto his feet, Hugh can’t take his eyes off of him. His breathing is a little quicker, his pulse already a little faster in anticipation, and there’s almost something hilarious about the fact that the host of the bloody TV show is still muted but gesturing to the turkey-or-chicken. Everything else is normal. This wasn’t even supposed to be anything but a normal day, but as Mads turns to face him and his warm palms settle on Hugh’s knees to spread his legs, Hugh bites back a _very_ embarrassing sound of eagerness and does as he’s told. 

He’s only been fantasizing about this man for the last few weeks, about the ghost of the way Mads’ cock had felt in his mouth, about that guilty moment he’d overheard him fucking Sofie - calling her a _good girl_ \- and every bloody time Mads has wandered around in his boxers. Maybe Mads is older, but good _lord_ is he still hot.

Feeling ridiculously awkward and young by comparison, Hugh can’t quite bite back the sound he makes when Mads drops to his knees, but he works with Mads’ every instruction. The word _babe_ lingers on the back of his mind as he lifts his hips just shy of eagerly, letting Mads strip him of the red sweatpants. He kicks them aside, and he’s all set to lift up again so Mads can slide his boxers off when Mads’ hand is suddenly against him, through his boxers. 

Hugh’s breath catches and his legs spread a little more, his hips lifting into Mads’ touch before he realizes what’s going on. He looks down, still looking stunned - a little dazed - and watches as Mads arranges his cock in his boxers just so, so it follows the line of his hip obscenely. Hugh looks at Mads, at the teasing, pleased look in his eyes, and he swallows, unable to help but look at Mads’ lips.

And then those lips are on him. Well… almost. Hugh thinks Mads says something about teasing but he can’t really bring himself to focus on that too much, because he’s too focused on the sight of Mads’ lips pressed to the outline of his cock through his boxers. Hugh bites back a stupid sound (he’s not a bloody idiot, he doesn’t want to whine; he’s been blown before, but he’s never wanted it _quite_ this much before) but there’s no helping the slight tremor to his muscles, his abdomen and thighs tight, his hands shaking a little.

“Oh my God,” he whispers shakily, watching Mads’ lips trail over the outline of his cock before he breathes over it hotly (and makes Hugh shiver) and then leans in to nuzzle against it. The sight has Hugh feeling lightheaded and awed, and after a moment, he reaches down with a slightly-shaking hand and threads his fingers through Mads’ hair. His eyes are still wide and he knows he looks aroused, but he doesn’t think anyone in their right mind would blame him. 

“You’re… you’re serious. You’re really going to…” Hugh swallows. “ _Christ_.”

* * *

He’s always been a bit of a tease but Mads has every intention on eventually giving in and giving it his all. For now, he plans on teasing, building up anticipation. Hugh’s physical reaction - the trembling and tensing - goes straight to Mads’ own cock, now filling out in his own track pants (no boxers, it’s his own home, he can wear what he wants). It’s Hugh’s words and hand coming to his hair that really seals the deal. The kid sounds hot and shocked and Mads has to resist the urge to rip Hugh’s boxers off and really go to town.

Instead, Mads reaches out and his hands come to frame and hold onto angular hips. It’s part because he wants to keep Hugh still and part because he can feel the skin above the waistband of the boxers, and he’s wanted to touch pale skin for so long, to run his hands over every inch of Hugh Dancy, to learn what he likes and what he loves, to learn what drives him crazy.

“Yes, I really am 'going to’,” Mads murmurs, looking up at Hugh through his eyelashes. “And I’m going to also enjoy it.” 

He flashes a playful grin before returning to his tease. Mads mouths at Hugh’s dick through the fabric of the boxers while his thumbs rub at hip bones. He drags his lips from root to tip, exhaling hotly over the hard flesh. He doesn’t especially _like_ licking fabric, but he does so when he reaches the tip, he sucks enthusiastically, with the intent of working Hugh up.

* * *

Hugh is reasonably sure that he’s never experienced anything hotter than this in his life. He’s never really been one for power dynamics; equals in the bedroom is more his go-to (not that he’s really _done_ that much). But there’s something about having Mads - older, handsome, rich, and so bloody _kind_ \- on his knees that goes straight to Hugh’s cock. It’s almost embarrassing how hard he is in so little time, but he can’t quantify how much he’s wanted this. 

It reminds him of the time he’d been so busy with class that he’d not had time (or the mindset) to jerk off for over a week, and when he’d finally been able to relax and go for it, he’d come so hard he’d almost whited out, and he’d ridden on the high for a long time. This feels very similar, a denial and a reward, and Hugh can’t even begin to take his eyes off of Mads.

The looks he’s given - the small glances through Mads’ eyelashes - have Hugh biting his lip, but it’s the touch of his hands against Hugh’s hips that begin to drive in that this is real. Hugh’s dick throbs in his boxers; it’s probably noticeable as Mads pins the fabric down at his hips, but he must enjoy it because then Mads is leaning in again, mouthing at the fabric. Hugh presses his toes to the floor, his thighs tense; there’s no way he can keep his feet flat. His whole body is wired and wants to _move_ , but he stays still. Mostly. His breathing is still rough and louder than he wants it to be, and he keeps stroking Mads’ hair, but he tries to _not_ be an arse and thrust.

Mads doesn’t make it easy. Every time he exhales hotly against Hugh’s boxers, Hugh bites back a sound and trembles. But all his control fails completely when Mads’ lips part around the fabric-covered head of his cock and then _suck_.

Hugh’s attempt to quiet the resulting shout makes the sound strangle into a whine, and his grip in Mads’ hair tightens before he remembers to not keep him there. 

“S-sorry, sorry,” Hugh gasps, relaxing his grip. He watches, transfixed, as the grey of his boxers darken with Mads’ saliva and the precome he can already feel leaking from his slit. God, he hopes he can withstand the teasing, because it might be the best thing he’s ever felt. “ _Fuck,_ Mads…”

* * *

While Hugh might be judging himself over the fact that he’s this hard so quick, Mads loves it. He has no problem with eagerness and enthusiasm especially when it involves him. He’s never specifically _gone_ for younger partners, but he’s not against it. He doesn’t discriminate. Apparently some men and women in their 20’s _actually like_ hooking up with someone older, some of them even went as far as calling him _daddy_. Well, as long as it didn’t get too freaky, Mads doesn’t care. He can be flexible. He can get into it.

He’s very into the trembling, into Hugh’s loud breathing. He can tell Hugh is trying to hold himself still, trying to not be loud, and it only increases his desire to have Hugh falling apart because of him. Mads is very, _very_ into the noisy sound that escapes Hugh’s mouth when he sucks at the hardness through the fabric. The hand in his hair tightens and Mads groans at the sensation. 

But then Hugh apologizes, stopping.

“Don’t apologize,” Mads murmurs, smiling kindly as he looks up at Hugh. “I like your enthusiasm. Be loud, squirm, pull my hair. I’m going to keep at this until you beg me to give you more.” 

Mads ducks back down, dragging his teeth carefully up the length before commenting, “You’re already so hard for me, leaking, and I love it.” 

He blatantly licks at the growing wet spot. While it’s not great to be on his knees, Mads will put up with it. The discomfort is worth it.

* * *

Hugh shakes, his muscles tense with pleasure, with the sheer intensity of the fact that Mads Mikkelsen is on his knees for him, his plush, perfect lips pressing against the fabric over Hugh’s cock. He’s had dreams like this before. He’s almost jerked himself raw over thinking about what Mads’ mouth might have felt like that night. He’s spent just as many nights imagining what Mads might feel like in _his_ mouth if he was sober enough to remember it, and that thought sends a fresh lance of sensation right through to his dick. He does what he can to stay still, to not be greedy, to use his bloody manners. But the pleasure is there and just as Hugh breathes his apology, Mads draws back just enough to look at him, smiling so _kindly_ , and Hugh shivers.

A soft moan escapes him at the mere thought of Mads wanting him to be loud, to squirm, and despite still being dazed, Hugh nods jerkily and winds his fingers back into Mads’ hair, gripping just enough to feel it.

“Yeah,” he breathes, wide-eyed, his voice rougher with a strained pleasure. “Yeah, I’m not above begging.” 

He’s really close to begging _now_. His brain - his fantasies - feel hard-wired to his prick, and the thought of Mads wanting him to beg has Hugh shuddering. But when Mads leans in and drags his teeth over the length of Hugh’s cock, there’s no way in Hell that Hugh can bite back his curse, or the way his hips rock forwards. He tenses, and there’s a tightening deep within that he can probably stave off. He’s not going to come in his boxers like a goddamned teenager. He’s got more self control than _that_. He can… can close his eyes, or cast his attention elsewhere, or something.

But then Mads speaks. Then his voice - low, accented, hot-as-Hell - comments on how Hugh is hard and _leaking_ , and it’s true, but hearing it in Mads’ voice sounds like pure sex. He whimpers, and when he pulls at Mads’ hair again, there’s an edge of desperation to it. 

“Mads, I- just gimme a–” Hugh tries, but he’s too distracted, too slow in telling _Mads_ to slow down. And he watches, aroused, stunned, and horrified, as Mads’ lips part and his tongue licks blatantly at where Hugh’s boxers are dark over the head of his cock. 

The thought, ‘ _he can taste me,_ ’ registers on a rush, and Hugh feels everything tighten before he can stop it.

His fingers curl sudden and tight in Mads’ hair, and he gasps like he’s just been punched. His hips twitch upwards suddenly and his voice is breathless when he babbles, “fuck, _fuck_ , Mads…! Sorry, I-I can’t…” and then Hugh’s gasps turn to moans. 

One foot slips against the floor but it doesn’t stop him from shaking as pleasure crashes over him. In the back of his mind, he can’t _believe_ he’s doing this, that he’d come from practically nothing, but as pleasure makes him writhe against the couch and his boxers dampen further with his own come, he can’t really bring himself to care. It’s still Mads’ mouth, still his tongue, and it still feels impossibly good.

* * *

Mads believes he has all the time in the world. He’s in no rush. He’s a little aroused himself, but he’s had enough sex, this isn’t about him. And who knows if Hugh would even _want_ to do anything like this again. Most men wouldn’t turn down a free blowjob and Hugh hadn’t said whether or not this is to be a one-time deal. Mads is hoping it won’t be, but he’ll accept whatever Hugh decides. 

He personally thinks this could be a good thing for the both of them… but he’s also aware that it has the potential to be rather messy as well. While Mads has experience with this sort of thing, Hugh does not. They should probably talk about things. In detail, but that’s for later…

Now, he focuses on the gorgeous creature before him. Hugh seems to listen to his suggestion, moving his hips and pulling on his hair - all good signs, really - and the moan is heavenly. Mads is glad Hugh is letting himself go - at least a little. The student is usually wound up very tight and that can’t be especially good. 

Mads thinks, when he was Hugh’s age (shit, he really needs to find out exactly how old Hugh Dancy is), Mads is pretty sure he relaxed more. Well, maybe this can help. Maybe _he_ can help. With the financial burden now lessened, Mads is attempting to have a positive influence on Hugh’s rather lackluster social and sexual life. Something like that. He’ll also leave that to think about later.

Mads distantly registers the warning, but he ignores it. Why would he stop or pause? He licks and laps against the fabric. Mads gives it his all. He _can_ taste the beginnings of pre-come soaking through the grey fabric, mixing along with his own saliva. Shortly after, fingers tighten in his hair and Hugh’s hips are jerking upward while he curses, apologizes, and comes. 

Sure, Mads is a little surprised at the suddenness, but maybe it’s been a while for the kid. Still, his eyes watch the slight twitching of Hugh’s cock through the boxers and wetness and the smell of come make an appearance.

He nuzzles affectionately at Hugh’s cock with his cheek - making sure to keep the touch light. “There, that feels better, yeah?” A smile easily comes to Mads’ face as his hands let go of Hugh’s hips to instead run down his slightly quivering thighs.

* * *

It feels like it’s been forever since Hugh had anyone suck his cock. He’s not entirely celibate. He’s had sexual encounters before - not in the way most might count them, but he’s had a dick in his mouth and his mouth on a dick before. Hands, sure. He’s gotten off with people before. He likes it a lot, likes the tension and the intimacy and the need and how being intimate with someone else feels more intense than just jerking off alone.

But he’s been so busy with class and getting a Visa and finding a place to stay that he’s not had time to find anyone. The last person he’d been intimate with had been Mads and Hugh hadn’t gotten off. So it’s been well over a month and unfortunately for him, he’s always had a very active imagination. It conspires against him, and so when he can no longer help himself and he comes with a series of small whimpers and curses, initially he’s thrilled and riding high on orgasm and need. It feels really fucking good, really intense. He loves it.

But then the pleasure begins to ease away from its peak. And it is at that moment that realization suddenly crashes down on him _hard_.

He just came in his pants like a teenager. Hugh has a second to be stunned and then everything in him is just mortified. The urge to lift his hands to cover his face is almost too strong and he doubts he’s ever been more embarrassed than he is now. Mads, thankfully, doesn’t seem disappointed or amused. If anything he just looks surprised but that immediately fades into a smile. Hugh watches, red-faced, as Mads leans in to nuzzle the growing wet spot over his cock, and the sight is enough to make his dick throb, to make him moan softly. But unfortunately nothing can appease his absolute mortification.

“I… I am _so_ sorry,” Hugh stammers, still shuddering, still gasping softly as he squirms through his pleasure. Mads’ hands on his skin should be illegal, they feel so good. 

“Fuck, sorry. It… Yes, it feels amazing. I just… I didn’t mean to… You’re just so bloody hot,” Hugh finishes awkwardly, wishing he could sink through the floor.

* * *

Mads honestly sees no problem with Hugh orgasming quickly or easily. Who’s he to judge? What good would it do anyway? What’s done is done. He’s just glad his partner _did_ get off. He’s taken a few people home who were apparently high strung and couldn’t let go of their work or stresses, and it had made it difficult for them to orgasm. He’d rather have it this way. He’s going to take this as a victory.

Hugh, however, seems embarrassed. He apologizes and squirms and Mads tilts his head to the side in confusion, a look of concern sliding onto his features. Then Hugh _blames_ it the fact that apparently it’s because he’s ‘just so bloody hot’ and Mads grins, a soft chuckle following. 

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Mads says. “The feeling is mutual. And it’s not like we can’t do this again sometime. But I need to feed us, yeah?” While he doesn’t exactly want to rush off, making sure Hugh eats _is_ important to him. See, he can be a responsible adult...

Mads reaches out to the armrest to help propel himself back up, now standing. “You go clean up and don’t worry your pretty head about it, Hugh. Honestly.” Mads offers what he hopes is an assuring smile before he walks to the kitchen to forage around until he finds something he wants to try and cook.

* * *

The reassurance does help, but it doesn’t make Hugh any less mortified. He’s so embarrassed that he forgets to ask if Mads wants him to return the favor (because he _really_ does), but by the time the question occurs to him, Mads is already on his feet and already walking away. 

Hugh starts to call back, a soft, “uh,” but Mads is already so far away that Hugh inwardly kicks himself for being an idiot. Skin flushed so red that he thinks he might implode, Hugh reaches up a shaking hand to rub at his face and then staggers to his feet so that he can go and clean up.

He feels a lot like a newborn giraffe as he walks awkwardly up the stairs, his legs shaking and the come in his boxers suddenly feeling less good and more awkward. He’s kind of glad that Mads doesn’t see the staggering walk, and by the time Hugh is in the bathroom across from his room, a fresh pair of boxers in hand, he’s so giddy and confused that he feels almost drunk with it. 

Still shaken, still hardly able to _believe_ what had happened, Hugh strips down and - instead of just cleaning his dick - he gets into the shower. It’s there that he leans against the wall, dazed, replaying every second of what had happened. His cock is sensitive, the water almost too much, but there’s still a deeper, gnawing ache inside that makes him squirm. More than anything, after all, he’s remembering what Mads had _said_.

‘ _The feeling is mutual. And it’s not like we can’t do this again sometime_.’

Fuck, Hugh hopes they can. He feels wired, somehow sated but like there’s still something missing. He cleans himself off, still shivering, and he’s no less mortified after drying off, dressing, and going back downstairs. Mads doesn’t seem bothered though, and despite Hugh’s embarrassment, Mads quickly engages him in conversation. 

Thoughts of asking Mads if he can return the favor are swept aside in favor of helping him cook, but even as they sit down in front of the couch to eat, Hugh can’t help but dart small glances at Mads, admiring his lips and the slight mess of his hair. Hugh thinks, _‘I did that,’_ and it doesn’t make his concentration any easier.

* * *

In Mads’ mind, the best way to ensure that Hugh isn’t embarrassed is to act normal. He’ll prove that Hugh coming after only a few short minutes _and_ inside his boxers isn’t abnormal, that it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s _not_ abnormal to Mads, at any rate. He’s happy, thrilled even that Hugh is apparently that sensitive or that into him. 

Has Hugh been fantasizing about him? If so, has it been since their first time or has it been more a recent thing? Shit, now that’s something Mads is curious about. He hadn’t thought Hugh had even _been_ interested in him. The kid is just generally awkward (and endearing).

Cooking provides to be a decent distraction. Well, figuring out what to cook. Mads hears the shower start up and he smiles to himself, thinking of a messy Hugh - all his doing. When Hugh ambles back down looking refreshed and still uncertain, Mads puts him to work and they finish cooking together. He tries his best to put Hugh at ease and by the time they’re sitting back with each other, Mads thinks they’re fine.


	5. Wank bank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, as I don't want to assume anything, it probably would be a good idea to tell me what you've all done," Mads begins. "You don't need to go into detail or anything. I'm not looking to add this to the wank bank."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Heehee, enjoy the update! We love these fuckers.
> 
> Mads written by Merry ([tumblr](http://merrythought.tumblr.com)) | Hugh written by Dapperscript ([tumblr](http://reallymisscoffee.tumblr.com/))

The thing is, Hugh _thinks_ they're fine. He does. He doesn't really set out to overthink; it just happens. His parents had always told him that it was a peril of being well-read and intelligent. The smarter you were, the more time you had to worry, but he'd never really believed it before. 

But when he retires that evening and spends over an hour just staring at the ceiling, the high and relaxation from dinner fading into a buzzing anxiety in the back of his mind, he can't help but wonder if his parents had a point. 

He does what he can to not think about it, about what they'd done, about what _Mads_ had done, and how he'd come in his boxers like an idiot, but once he remembers, the thought is just there. 

He forestalls it for that evening easily enough, with the memory of Mads' voice so low and teasing, the feeling of his hot tongue against Hugh's dick, through the fabric of his boxers. Hugh bites his lip raw with the effort to stay quiet as he slides his hands inside of his boxers and grabs a few tissues preemptively, but even as he chokes a sob back when he comes all over his fist, he knows there'll be nothing he can do for it in the morning.

* * *

They're apparently not fine. The next morning, Hugh seems worked up about something. The kids is distracted and quiet, but Mads doesn't push. He cooks them breakfast, they eat with the radio on, and he finishes getting dressed for work, slipping on a slate grey suit jacket and pants with a black dress shirt. No tie. Because fuck ties.

When they're in the car and on the way to the university, Mads decides to ask. He's tired of not knowing what the fuck is up. 

At a stop light, he looks over to Hugh. Time to get some answers. 

"You want tell me what's on your mind? You're obviously thinking too much and coming to stressful conclusions." 

Maybe Hugh regrets what they did. Maybe Hugh thinks he's a creep. Maybe Mads had messed up their new friendship. There's only one way to find out what's going and it’s this - talking. Communicating. Being adults.

* * *

He's not fine. He tries to be, but in the light of day, his embarrassing little mess-up seems insurmountable. Hugh is quiet, worrying at his own dumb reaction all through breakfast, and he keeps being torn between a low arousal whenever he looks at Mads, and a twist of mortification when he thinks about how fast he'd come the night before. 

By the time Mads has him in the car and Hugh's got his knapsack on his lap, he's progressed into a gnawing worry that Mads might _not_ want to do anything again. Which, of course, immediately connects with his own concern that he could have known what it would feel like to have Mads' mouth around him if he'd just been able to hold on _longer_ \--

When Mads suddenly speaks at the red light, Hugh jerks a little in surprise. He'd been lost in his own mind the whole trip, and when he comes back to the present, it's with a few wide blinks as he tries to re-orient himself. He looks at Mads, at the slight curiosity and concern in his eyes, and Hugh swallows before offering Mads a small, self-deprecating smile. Fuck. 

"My parents always told me that was a bad habit of mine," he says, trying and failing to joke. "Sorry, I... just..." 

He flips his hand in the air, a vague, awkward gesture. 

"Last night. It's not you," he adds, rushing to reassure, because he's not a bloody idiot and he _knows_ how that sounds.

* * *

It's simple in Mads' mind, but he knows it may not be the same for Hugh. While _he's_ comfortable in messing around with friends and doing the no-strings-attached thing, he doubts Hugh has much experience in such an arrangement. Hugh already admitted to not even doing one night stands often. 

It's not that Mads is against commitment or relationships or monogamy. He’s never really made time for such things. He likes his own independence and freedom. He can do what he wants, when he wants, travel wherever. It's a good life. Sure, sometimes lonely, but Mads manages just fine. Besides, a legitimate relationship with Hugh makes no sense whatsoever. It's not practical nor fair. Hugh needs someone young and vibrant like him, someone who would adore the shit out of him and had similar life experiences and the like. That’s not Mads. He doesn’t fit the bill. 

Of course his question seems to jolt Hugh out of his head. Because the kid had been thinking again, lost in his own worried thoughts. An apology comes and then the stereotypical ' _it's not you_ ' excuse. Mads frowns. He doesn't understand the hand waving Hugh does either. He momentarily goes through the events following the not-quite-blowjob, searching for any possible indication that he'd done something wrong. He can't come up with anything though.

"Are you regretting what we did?" Mads asks slowly. 

He's got to ask. He doesn't want to _not_ know. 

"If it's not me, what is it then?" 

The light turns and Mads reluctantly looks forward again and accelerates.

* * *

Hugh knows he hasn't given the best response in the world. He's not been very clear, but he has this vague hope that _being_ vague might keep him from having to explain more. But as it so often does, trying to save time comes back and bites him firmly on the arse. As instead of Mads understanding what he means, Mads instead looks concerned and then asks if he regrets the night before. 

Hugh freezes and stumbles over himself for a moment before he manages to find his voice. By then the car is moving again, and Hugh knows he probably looks a little horrified.

"What? No! No, God, I don't... I'm not regretting what we did. I'm..." 

Well, fuck, now he _has_ to say something. If the alternative is Mads assuming this is his fault... Or worse, that he did something wrong? Hugh has to tell the truth. So he will, though he can feel his face already beginning to burn.

"I'm embarrassed. It's been a long time since I got off with anyone, and... I didn't mean to come that fast. I wanted to at least feel your mouth, but it was so bloody hot, and..." Hugh trails off, still mortified, but he can already feel his prick taking an interest in the very memory of last night, embarrassment be damned. 

"And... I really wanted to offer to-to you know... Repay the favor, but you were gone by the time I remembered to ask. It just... Felt like I cocked it up. Royally." 

* * *

The car is not the best place to be having any possible serious conversation. Mads has to pay attention to the road versus look at Hugh. He doesn't want to be stressed while driving either because other drivers are already idiots as it is. Unfortunately, this is what's happening. Right here, right now, they're doing it. And he'd rather get it over with than have to wonder about it all day anyway.

As much as he wants to turn and see Hugh, to try and figure out what's going on, he stares ahead. Morning traffic is never good to begin with. He's not about to get into some accident with an asshole over this kid. 

He listens to Hugh's response. Okay, so not regretting. What is it then? After a pause, Hugh finally gets to the _real_ reason. 

Apparently it's coming too fast. Apparently Hugh had wanted to offer _him_ a blowjob in return. To 'repay the favor'. Mads can't help but laugh lightly. The kid had been worried about _that_? Shit...

"Listen, babe," Mads says quickly, knowing that Hugh is probably thinking the worst because he had chuckled. "It was hot that you got off that quick. I like the enthusiasm, the sensitivity. I wasn't looking for you to repay the favor. You didn't mess anything up, okay?" 

* * *

Hugh can't help but feel ridiculously embarrassed as he sits there, his issues aired for Mads' perusal. He's honestly expecting laughter or mockery or incredulity (not that he thinks _Mads_ is one for that, but irrational fears are commonplace for him) so when Mads actually _does_ laugh, Hugh feels something twist sharply in his chest, his face flushing a little deeper as his shoulders hunch. Fuck, what is anyone supposed to say to that? He shifts in his seat, and he's about to just drop the subject (because _ouch_ ), but then Mads speaks, and while the words 'listen, babe' _could_ sound degrading, instead they only sound warm. It's just dissonant enough that it catches Hugh's attention, and he chances a small glance at Mads.

The immediate reassurance goes through him like a live current. Hugh's attempt to disappear inside of his jacket hitches and then he slowly eases out of the hunch his shoulders had slid into. He glances back at Mads fully now, listening, and the tension slowly bleeds out of his shoulders as Mads speaks. Sure, his face is still a little warm, and he still feels a little embarrassed, but knowing that Mads doesn't _care_ does help. 

Plus, there's the pet name again. Hugh shifts in his seat. He does enjoy it. 

"You mean that?" He asks, and immediately wants to cringe at how bloody hopeful he sounds. 

Way to show your hand, Dancy. He sits a little straighter and wets his lips, nervous, but slightly more emboldened. Mads _had_ just called him 'hot'. 

"Is it... something we could try again? Look, I'm... I'm not entirely certain what this is. What I'm allowed to ask for. But I really would, uh... _enjoy_ repaying the favor."

* * *

Mads can feel Hugh's eyes on him and it's annoying to have to look straight ahead, but he does. Mads isn't a reckless driver. He may be lax in many other areas of his life, but not while in a motorized vehicle. It'd be just his luck were he to rear end someone while having _this_ type of conversation. Yeah, no thanks. New York drivers are already so pissy. 

_'You mean that?'_ Hugh asks and there's no way Mads misses the sheer hope in his words. Mads gives a short nod, his lips pulling into a smile. When Hugh continues on, it's apparent that Mads hadn't explained things well enough. He's not exactly surprised. What _does_ surprise him is when Hugh states that he'd enjoy repaying the favor - enjoy giving him another blow job.

"Okay, okay," Mads says, trying to not let his mind focus on _that_ again. Hugh's beautiful mouth and tongue-- Yeah, no. Not right now. He's going to drive the kid to school and then go to work himself. Focus. 

"This is whatever you want it to be, whatever you're comfortable with, Hugh. We're both adults and we both can't read minds, yeah? So we'll have to ask and talk to figure out things. I respect you. I respect your boundaries. If you want to give me another blowjob, of course I'd be fucking good with that. If that's all we ever do, that's fine. If things go further, that's fine too. We're both guys, getting off with a partner - a friend - is nice, yeah?" Mads pauses a moment before continuing, "If something isn't nice, tell me. If you want to go back to being roommate-slash-friends, tell me. I'll give you the same courtesy."

* * *

It's probably not a good idea to be having this conversation while Mads is driving. Hugh's not been in New York for that long, but he knows that drivers here aren't necessarily the kindest. Mads really should be focusing on the road instead of focusing on him, but Hugh can't help it. Mads isn't annoyed by him, and this is more than Hugh had been expecting, period. Maybe at first he'd have balked at the suggestion of being sexual - if he'd felt it was an _obligation_ , or a condition for staying - but Mads has made it very clear that it's not. Now, after so many weeks of arousal and wanting, that Mads seems _okay_ with this is thrilling. 

Hugh's next inhale is a little ragged, a little awkward, and he listens raptly. He hadn't been expecting Mads to lay it all on the line, but now that he _is_ , Hugh isn't about to miss anything. He listens quietly, at first looking at Mads, then turning back to face ahead, thinking on what he's told. 

He goes over the suggestions closely, thinking hard. While he feels a small thrill at the idea of being able to rekindle his earlier memory _properly_ , that's only one part of Mads' speech. The rest is actually kind. It's about respect and both being adults, about open, honest communication. It's... _so_ not the conversation they should be having before work or school, especially as Hugh can already feel a stirring of ill-timed arousal at the thought of being intimate with Mads again. 

He still nods, thoughtful. "I've... never really done a friends with benefits thing before. I mean-- that _is_ what you're getting at?" Hugh darts a quick look at Mads, awkward but at least active and engaged in conversation. 

"It's... it's something we should probably talk about when we have the time. But for now? Yes. That sounds... _fuck_ , that sounds... bloody amazing." Hugh wets his lips, slow, fighting back the desire to ask Mads to turn back around. They both have obligations. 

"Could we talk? Tonight, maybe? Unless you're working late. I'm not working at the library tonight."

* * *

No matter how he tries to invite open communication between them, Mads has a feeling that this is a bad idea. It's inviting trouble at _some_ point. While Mads is experienced with this sort of arrangement, Hugh isn't. Hugh has enough stress to worry about. Friends with benefits, casual relationships... They _can_ be messy. He's seen them get messy, too. They require boundaries and a level of detachment - sex without love, sex without the potential of complicated feelings. It's not for everyone.

Still... Hugh is both adorable and hot and Mads doesn't want to necessarily do what would be smart. Not here. Not now. So he lays it on the line, he tries to be as clear and forthcoming as he can be. The conversation would definitely be better with eye contact, sure, but he's winging it here and trying to do some damage control, to smooth things out. Hugh _looks_ okay in response to what he's all said and Mads feels himself visibly relax a little. 

' _Bloody_ _amazing_ ' is what Hugh calls it and Mads can't help but fucking grin at that. 

"Of course we can talk tonight," Mads replies, his hand reaching over to squeeze Hugh's thigh in support. "And I shouldn't be working late, no."

He turns onto the school's lot, slowing down as he comes to pull over and puts the car in park at the drop off zone. He's really not thinking as he leans over, his hand coming to grip at the back of Hugh's head and tugging it to the side so he can brush a light kiss to Hugh's mouth. 

"Have a good day, babe," Mads murmurs as he pulls away.

* * *

Mads isn't thinking, and Hugh isn't expecting anything, and so initially, Hugh isn't sure which of them is more surprised. 

The car stops at his school's parking lot and he's already gathering his things - trying to will his arousal away - and thinking about the conversation later that night when Mads leans in. Hugh feels the touch to his hair, feels the tug, and his breath hitches at how that feels, only to catch completely when Mads kisses him. It's light and fleeting, barely-there, but Hugh freezes just the same. It's definitely not _bad_ \- he just hadn't been expecting it. The sensation sends a lick of warmth through him, but more than that is an odd giddiness. 

Mads has had his lips pressed to Hugh's clothed dick, but somehow this casual kiss and soft term of endearment feels more intimate. Hugh smiles (and he knows he looks like an awkward git) and it takes him a little longer than it should to get himself back together. 

"Uh, yes. Quite. I mean, uh, you too."

There's a second of hesitation - just one - and then Hugh quickly leans in again. He kisses the corner of Mads' mouth, fleeting, but it's a show of equal interest. He pauses, wets his lips, then gathers his bag and climbs out of the car. 

Hugh is - understandably - distracted that day. His work doesn't suffer; he's still able to focus on his assignments and his lectures, but whenever he has a free moment or two, he remembers Mads' rougher chuckles, his soft promise, and the light press of lips. He's never done this before, any sort of casual relationship. Hell, he's rarely done a _real_ relationship. 

He's not sure what to expect. But the thought of feeling Mads' lips against his prick properly - the thought of sucking him and _remembering_ it this time - keeps making getting up from lectures a little awkward. Hugh's just glad that it's cold enough out to warrant a jacket, because he has to keep adjusting it whenever he stands up.

He takes the transit home that evening, and as dismal an experience as it is, he's too excited-slash-nervous to care. Hugh fumbles with the keypad, and he almost trips over his own feet when he steps into Mads' house. 

Hugh spends the time until Mads is due to get back in a way that he hasn't really tried before. He putters around the kitchen and manages to remember a recipe from home, and so he spends the next half hour making kedgeree. It's something to do with his hands, something to do to shake off his nerves, and it's only as he's poaching the eggs up that he wonders distantly if Mads will even _like_ it. Mads usually either orders in or takes the lead in cooking. Hugh looks down at the curried dish and hopes, somewhat ridiculously, that he's not stepping on Mads' toes.

* * *

Mads is a fairly touchy man, especially when he's comfortable around people. He's also European and doesn't have a stick up his ass. So he thinks nothing of giving Hugh a kiss. Hugh had seemed quite worried about fucking up last night so initiating a kiss should help ease some tension. It's quick and nice.

Hugh looks properly stunned, but also happy. Or pleased. His smile is bright and his reply is stumbled over, but Mads doesn't care. For as intelligent as Hugh is, he's still young and excitable. It's cute. And that realization _should_ knock some sense into Mads (because really, Hugh is _too_ young for him and he shouldn't be going for cute) but then Hugh is leaning in and kissing him - just as quick and light. 

Mads can only grin, teeth flashing. Then Hugh is out of the car and Mads watches him as he hurries to the door.

Work goes slow and Mads finds himself getting distracted far too often. One of his co-workers notices and jokingly suggests that he needs to go on a vacation. Of course, that has Mads thinking about taking _Hugh_ on a vacation so it's really not that much help. Hugh in swimming shorts, golden skin and on the beach... It's is a nice image to think on. Would Hugh even like somewhere tropical? No. No. Taking Hugh on some vacation is in the realm of that sugar baby thing. It's like Hugh would be his _boytoy_ or something and Mads definitely doesn't _need_ to pay for company or sex, okay?

Even though he _would_ like to leave early, Mads doesn't. He gets his work done and tries to shove thoughts of Hugh to the back of his mind. When he steps into his place, he's greeted to the smells of curry and fish. It's obvious that Hugh has been cooking. 

Mads slips off his coat, shoes and flings his suit jacket off. Immediately he undoes the top few buttons of his shirt. Much better.

"Ah, look at you, cooking for us," Mads announces as he strolls inside the kitchen and observes what's in the making. Some sort of rice meal with eggs and fish apparently. 

"Just missing some cute frilly apron that says 'kiss the cook.'" 

A wink follows. 

* * *

Hugh hears the front door open and immediately his heart leaps up into his throat. He listens as Mads walks in, as he divests himself of his coat and his shoes, and Hugh wets his lips, eager and excited about the upcoming conversation while also being worried out of his mind. It's not a bad worried, just a low level of anxiety because he doesn't know what to expect. He's hopeful though.

So when Mads walks into the kitchen and sees what's cooking, Hugh looks back at him with a slightly crooked grin. He's already opening his mouth to welcome Mads back home when Mads decides to talk, and Hugh immediately (and tellingly) goes quiet. 

The little laugh he lets out is both pleased, shy, and a little incredulous. The thought of wearing an apron like that is ridiculous... Unless it's something Mads likes. The wink seems to say so. 

Hugh's smile is a little sheepish, but he doesn't shy away as he looks down at the dish. 

"Sounds like you should have planned ahead on that front. Tell you what. Next time I cook, make sure you've got one on hand and I'd be more than happy to oblige." Hugh teases back, offering Mads a wink in return. 

"Welcome home. This should be done soon."

* * *

Mads is honestly touched. While Hugh has been helpful in the past, he's never taken the initiative to cook a meal from start to finish. Until now. It's a pleasant surprise. It's one that Mads _does_ appreciate. 

He'll have to look into purchasing such an apron for Hugh. As a joke. Only. Not that he has some lingering fetish for dressing up Hugh in anything remotely frilly.

He sets the table to allow Hugh time to finish cooking. It doesn't seem like the right moment to dive into the conversion over dinner so Mads doesn't bring it up. Instead, they talk about the dish and each other's day. It's then that Mads realizes it's rather nice to be able to do this most evenings. It's definitely something he hadn't been expecting to enjoy when the offer had been made to have Hugh come and live with him.

Once everything is more or less cleaned up, they head to the living room and settle back down on the couch. He forgoes turning the TV on, not wanting the distraction. He probably should have changed clothes, but fuck it, he's been wanting to get to this conversation all day. Mads crosses his legs and turns to look at Hugh.

"So, as I don't want to assume anything, it probably would be a good idea to tell me what you've all done," Mads begins. "You don't need to go into detail or anything. I'm not looking to add this to the wank bank."

* * *

Hugh thinks he could get used to this. He's not much for cooking every single day (the draw of pizza is still quite enticing) but given the way Mads looks at him, like he's _touched_ , makes Hugh want to do it again sometime soon. He makes a mental note to find out what Mads likes to eat. But for that moment, Hugh smiles, Mads settles in to help out, and preparing dinner goes off without a hitch. 

They eat after, the conversation actually relaxing, and as curious as Hugh is over when the right time to bring up his questions is, he falls into the simple back-and-forth easily. After, he helps Mads clean up and (after a quick glance to make sure it's okay), Hugh grabs them two beers on the way back to the couch. 

This is the time where they usually throw the TV on while Hugh does homework or Mads checks his laptop for work. So when Hugh sits down on the couch and Mads _doesn't_ turn on the TV, that's his hint. He blinks, then looks at Mads, and he offers him the other beer, cradling his own without opening it. They're doing this, then.

As embarrassing as it is, the first question makes sense. Hugh considers asking the same back, but given the way Mads had knelt on the floor without hesitation, he's got a fairly good idea that Mads is very experienced. Hugh, on the other hand... He swallows and reaches up to rub at the back of his neck. 

"Uh. I mean, I suppose I wouldn't mind even if that _was_ why you were asking. Kind of flattering, really. Um... I've made out with a few guys over the years. Women too. I've given a few handjobs, and a few blowjobs." 

Hugh glances at Mads; he really wants to remember _one_ in particular... 

"And um. I've gone down on a woman before, but- but she was nervous about sex, so I just used my fingers." 

A part of him hopes that by _not_ saying it, Mads might just casually glance over the fact that he hasn't strictly _had_ sex yet. 

* * *

It can't be helped. Mads needs to know how experienced or inexperienced Hugh is. He's not going to judge him either way. When he had been Hugh's age-- wait. He doesn't even _know_ how old Hugh is. Also something he should probably ask about. He figures twenty-something, he just hopes that the twenty-something is somehow closer to thirty than twenty.

He opens his beer and has a drink as Hugh responds. While Mads is no stranger to fantasizing (and about Hugh), he'd rather create his own memories to look back on. Immediately, Mads knows that Hugh is going to be on the inexperienced side of things when ‘making out’ is the first thing mentioned. 

Guys and women. Mads nods. Bisexual then but perhaps with more of a leaning towards men as Hugh mentions handjobs and blowjobs - _plural_. So Hugh is at least experienced with cocks. And then apparently one experience with a woman and fingering. But no actual _sex_ with either gender. Nothing remotely sounds kinky or fetish-like either unless Hugh is keeping that a secret, but Mads seriously doubts it.

"Okay, well, that's no problem. You're young, plenty of time to gain experience," Mads says kindly. 

He takes another sip and regards Hugh. "As we're in the process of getting to know each other, I guess I should finally ask how old you are."

He's been dreading this, but might as well bite the bullet.

* * *

It's to Hugh's immense relief that Mads seems okay with his relative lack of experience. His shoulders relax visibly and when Hugh offers Mads a smile, it's pretty apparent that he's pleased over Mads' answer. Yeah, he feels a little ridiculous thinking about how little experience he has in the long run, but Mads just seems kind about it. Hugh's glad the guy isn't put off by his inexperience. Or, worse, being a git about it. 

Though when Mads asks him his _age_ , Hugh looks at him sharply. Both eyebrows lift in surprise. Had he not said? That... wow. Way to go, Dancy. He opens his mouth to respond, then pauses and glances at the beer in his own hands. After a moment of indecision, Hugh shoots Mads a slightly guilty look, wets his lips, and then cracks the beer open to take a small (almost defiant) sip. Not that he thinks Mads will care. Mads is European as well. 

"I thought you knew. I'm sorry, I'm uh... I'm turning twenty-one in a few months. Is..." Hugh trails off, blinks, and then a thought dawns on him. "Is that okay?"

Shite, there _is_ an age difference. It's not the worst Hugh's seen, but Mads _is_ old enough to be his father. Just barely. 

He tries not to look like he's flinching away or wincing, but it's difficult. Hugh wets his lips again, nervous but not backing down. He doesn't want to.

* * *

Age is just a number, right? Well, unless the age of the individual is under the legal age. Eighteen and younger is just plain wrong. Mads is a fairly open minded individual, sure. He has a few co-workers that have younger wives - who's he to judge? He's not interested in trying to discern the so-called reasons or intentions for certain couples. It's none of his business. And they're not a couple anyway. This is just a casual arrangement.

His question seems to surprise Hugh. Okay, it is a little random, sure. It's something Mads should have asked about sooner. Probably. But after the drunk hookup it just seemed weird to inquire about it.

Mads watches Hugh open his mouth to answer but then, for whatever reason, Hugh decides to open his beer and take a swig. When the answer does follow, it's with an apology. Twenty-one in a few months means Hugh is twenty _now._ Hugh is fucking nineteen years younger than him and is the youngest Mads has ever been with. Maybe this really _is_ his mid-life crisis. Great. 

' _Is that okay?'_

Mads blinks and wishes he had a cigarette. He settles for his beer instead. This could be his out. He could take it. He could stop this before it ever really begun, before it got messy.

He's not going to.

"We're both adults, no? If you're consenting and okay, I see no reason to make a big deal of it," Mads finally says. "I just don't want you to think I'm taking advantage or ever pressuring you. I'm sure you will get tired of me asking if you're all right or certain, but it's important for me to have your permission."

* * *

He knows how old Mads is. He'd done that impromptu Google search on him after going home that first day. It had been the day he'd discovered what Mads' net worth had been, and it had been the day where he'd learned his age - listed proudly on his Wikipedia page, along with more personal information that Hugh hadn't felt comfortable digging into. At the time, Mads had just been a hookup; he hadn't wanted to pry into his parents or his brother. 

But in all the time they've known each other, Hugh hadn't really realized that Mads might not know _his_ age. As he watches Mads go quiet, anxiety spikes, but Hugh stays silent. Honestly, he knows this is awkward. He knows how society tends to look upon older people who get married to people younger than they are. (Not that that's where they're headed.) Hugh can't claim that - had he not already slept with Mads in some capacity - he would have approached him voluntarily. Societal pressure exists. So, though he's nervous, if Mads decides he's too young, he can't really _blame_ him. He'll be disappointed, but that doesn't mean they can't still get on.

To Hugh's nearly-immeasurable relief, when Mads answers, it's not to turn him down. Hugh's shoulders sag and just like that, he almost deflates against the couch. He lets out a low, relieved breath and he nods, quick, taking the out while he has it.

"I understand. For... what it's worth, I don't feel like you're taking advantage of me. I'll say 'no' if I don't want to do something. You're not a bleeding prick. You're not about to toss me out on my arse if I don't do something." 

Hugh pauses, wets his lips again, and settles some. 

"That... you're that concerned about needing my permission says a lot. Even if I get frustrated down the road, just.... thanks."

* * *

This is probably a mistake. Or going to become a mistake. There likely are many good reasons why it's more socially acceptable to date and fuck those closest to your own age group... But whatever. Mads isn't going to go back on his word now. He's not that type of guy. He'll just have to keep this under wraps. He doesn't want this becoming public knowledge. Already he's curious what some of his neighbors think. Hugh's appearance is probably more gossip worthy than his mismatched athletic wear.

Hugh may be young and inexperienced, but he's intelligent. Mads isn't going to treat him like some child (even though he still thinks of him as somewhat of a _kid_ ). He will give Hugh the same courtesy as he would to someone around his age. After all, Hugh is still an adult. Relieved, Hugh visibly relaxes at his answer and Mads smiles in return. 

Mads is also relieved when Hugh confirms that he will stick up for himself, say no when needed, and that he also doesn't think Mads is a 'bleeding prick' who would toss him out on his arse. The Britishisms bring out a soft chuckle from Mads. This kid is really too damn cute for his own good. 

"Thanks isn't necessary," Mads replies easily. "But going to grab a smoke, be right back."

He drains his beer on the way to retrieve his package of cigarettes. One is lit and in his mouth by time he returns and settles next to Hugh. 

"Here, come sit on my lap," Mads invites as he exhales smoke away from Hugh. "That is, if you're okay with straddling and facing me?" 

He feels like now is as good of a moment to become more comfortable with each other. If they're going to do _more_ , no time like the present to get closer.

* * *

Hugh is aware that this could have had the capacity to go south quickly. He could have said the wrong things, or Mads could have, and it would have likely ended in disaster (or at least a high level of discomfort). So when he hears Mads let out a small chuckle and watches as he seems to relax a little more too, Hugh lets himself feel relieved that they'd dodged that bullet. Conversations about past experience are never fun (well... not phrased clinically anyway) but he's glad they'd managed to get through the basics.

Nodding when Mads excuses himself for a smoke, Hugh sips at his beer and finally relaxes back into his seat with a low sigh of relief. He's still wired, still feeling a little buzzed with adrenaline, but it's a good feeling. That good feeling carries over, and when Mads sits back down not a few minutes later with a cigarette between his lips, Hugh sends him an honest smile in response. (While he knows it's an awful habit, he likes the smell of cigarette smoke. It smells like Mads.)

Of course, Mads' suggestion draws him up short. And just like that, Hugh's relaxation turns into something else. It's half-anxiety and half-anticipation. To his credit, it takes him all of a few seconds to decide. Then he wets his lips, nods quickly, and sets his beer aside.

He's never been able to do this gracefully. Too many limbs and knobbly knees, and he's far too clumsy for his own good. But Mads is patient, and Hugh braces himself on the back of the couch as he shuffles over and throws one of his legs over Mads' lap. He sits back, and the first thought he has is that this is a _lot_ more intimate than he'd thought it would be. While a little nerve-wracking, he likes it. The muscles of Mads' thighs are firm under him.

"Can I kiss you?" Hugh wonders. "Or would you like to finish your cigarette first? I'm not... really sure how this works. But I guess that's what getting to know each other is all about, right?"

* * *

It is possible that Hugh could say no. Hugh might actually be more bothered by smoking than he's let on to (it hasn't escaped Mads that Hugh hasn't been smoking). Hugh also may want to try and have this conversation _without_ the added proximity. But no, Hugh decides and moves quickly, although Mads thinks he sees some sort of stress-excitement show up. He can't pretend to understand how Hugh's brain works, but he does know that Hugh Dancy is an overthinker.

Mads makes sure he lifts his cigarette away to ensure he doesn't ash on Hugh or burn him. (What a fucking nightmare that'd be.) It's a bit of a process to get Hugh situated, but they manage it. Hugh is a comfortable weight on top of him, the younger man's legs spread while straddling him. Yeah, this is a better position to be in. Mads' lips curve into a very delighted grin when Hugh's question is asked. 

_'Can I kiss you?'_

Manners. How adorable. Mads' free hand comes to rest against Hugh's lower back to steady him. He hangs the cigarette over the armrest of the couch and flicks it with his index finger. There's an ashtray on the side table and Mads has memorized where it is without even looking. 

"'Course you can, I happen to be a fan of that mouth of yours," Mads murmurs, his voice a sensual purr. 

* * *

_Oh_.

Hugh isn't sure what it is that really gets to him here, whether it's the closeness, the relative ease that he and Mads have developed after the past month, or if it's the marked power imbalance in this position and the tone of Mads' voice. He suspects it's a fair bit of everything, but Hugh's brain isn't helping matters by informing him that the low, sensual purr is actually something that Hugh had heard before. Mads had talked like that with Sofie, and the memory sends heat prickling through his skin, going straight to his prick. With his legs spread, it'll probably be apparent before long, but Hugh tries to tell himself that this is kind of the whole _point_. 

He wets his lips as he looks down at Mads', then glances at the casual way he sits, with one arm languid over the arm of the couch, smoke curling up from the cigarette. It _shouldn't_ be hot, but it really is. A thrilling anxiety teases through him as Mads speaks, and the words, again, go right to his cock. Hugh wets his lips again, then shuffles a little closer.

Getting to know someone and what they like is always weird, always a little awkward, but he's never had _this_. He's never had someone just invite him to act. Mads' voice is a sensual tease and Hugh is leaning in before he's decided to. 

One of his hands lifts, his fingers skirting across Mads' jaw before Hugh slides his hand back into Mads' hair. He closes the distance between them, pressing their lips together once, almost tentatively, followed immediately by something deeper. Hugh's lips part and he flicks his tongue over Mads' bottom lip, chasing the taste of nicotine with a low, pleased sigh. 

* * *

Mads hadn't thought that this evening would necessarily go like _this_ (not that he's complaining - because he really isn't). Mads hadn't really _had_ a plan other than talking. Is kissing talking? No, not exactly. It involves mouths but that's it. But they're getting warmed up. Yeah. Sure. That's what he will go with. Hugh is warm on top of him. His body firm and his ass plush and soft against Mads' thighs. Mads likes it.

Hugh presses in a little closer and Mads is pretty sure the kids is getting hard. Suits him just fine though. Mads will probably be there soon enough. He gets closer when Hugh decides to take the initiative and reach out, fingers grazing against his face before moving into his hair. Then Hugh's mouth is carefully pressing against his. The first kiss is short and light - a greeting maybe - but before Mads can deepen it, _Hugh_ actually does. That definitely has Mads getting aroused. 

When a tongue slides against his lip, Mads obliges with no hesitation. Their tongues meet and Mads' hand presses on Hugh's low back encouragingly. The kiss quickly turns dirty and a little sloppy, but Mads can get behind it. He purposefully shifts his hips up, seeking to get some grinding friction. Hugh pushes back into him and Mads pulls away from the kiss on a groan. 

"God, you're delicious, babe," Mads praises, taking in the faint flush on Hugh's cheeks. "The things I want to do to you..." He then chuckles, leaning his head back to draw up his smoke and take a drag. He exhales away from Hugh's face before adding on, "Is there anything you're not into or that I should be aware of?"

See, talking? They're doing that too.

* * *

Any uncertainty Hugh has over whether or not Mads will like him initiating dies when Mads immediately opens to the kiss. It's a rush of sensation; their tongues slide over each other and then the kiss deepens more. Hugh is left welcoming Mads' tongue in, feeling each quick, teasing lick and every slow suck that goes right to his cock. He holds his own, kissing back, nipping, learning the feel of Mads _really_ kissing him. It's probably the dirtiest kiss he's ever indulged in, and he _really_ likes it. It means that he's not really prepared for anything more, though, so when Mads' hips lift and Hugh feels the sudden grinding friction, he doesn't even think before pushing into the feeling. He echoes Mads' groan, and when the kiss breaks, Hugh sets his free hand on Mads' shoulder to brace himself. 

He's hard. He's hard from a bloody _kiss_. That's never happened before.

Breathing harder, flushed and dazed, Hugh looks at Mads like he can't quite believe he's real. He is, though. The taste of nicotine on his tongue says as much. Wetting his lips, he shivers at the implication that Mads wants to _do_ things to him (he'd very much like to know what those _things_ are, thanks) but he tries to focus. His pulse is quicker and he's aching to kiss Mads again, but he at least understands that the topic Mads has brought up is important. Focus, Dancy.

"Um... I don't... I don't really know," Hugh finally says. He sounds half-embarrassed, but mostly just dazed. Given the way his pants are tented and the way he keeps looking at Mads' lips, it's pretty obvious why. "I haven't really done a lot. No one I've been with has done anything I didn't like, I don't think. I had someone yank at my hair a little too hard, but it wasn't bad. And... and someone held my wrists when he was going down on me, but I, uh... I liked that. So..." 

Hugh shrugs, awkward, but still intent. "What about you?"

* * *

Hugh really is delicious. Mads would love to take him here on the couch, to drop his cigarette in the ashtray and make out with Hugh as they worked each item of clothing off. Of course, the making out part would be a little difficult with the whole undressing bit, but that's okay. Mads is sure they could find a way and manage it. He's not going to let himself get caught up in it though. He knows they need to cover a few different points before anything else can happen. It would be irresponsible to just dive in _again._

Mads can sense Hugh's excitement. Hugh is eager and Mads can see and feel the effect he's had just from the bit of kissing and grinding. Mads is hard too, but unlike Hugh, he isn't bothered. Becoming aroused is nothing to be ashamed of. It's natural.

Hugh's lips are slick and a little swollen, his face has a dusting of pink on his cheeks and Mads is the sole reason. It's hot. It's hotter than it usually is. But Mads has always enjoyed working up another, seeing his partner in pleasure. 

But Mads listens to Hugh answer (although he notices how Hugh is rather focused on his mouth). Mads gives a small nod at what Hugh shares. Hair pulling is okay, but within reason. Not to the point of yanking hair out, Mads assumes. And a little bit of restraining or roughness... The kid is really damn inexperienced. It's kind of both daunting and appealing. (Shit, he must be a pervert if he's looking forward to teaching Hugh a thing or two.)

"I like a lot of things. You know, both genders and the many of ways to enjoy them," Mads begins, he knows it's vague. He'd asked about what Hugh _wasn't_ into though. "I don't care for kinks like... feet or shit or piss. Or diapers. Or blood. I like BDSM, but nothing too extreme. You know, makeshift gags or restraints, spanking. Some domination and submission." He flicks the ash off his smoke again before grinning. "I like lingerie too. What do you think about that?" Mads expects Hugh to blush and not be into it, but it's good to know limits.

* * *

Hugh's tempted to lean back in. Mads' lips look ever-so-slightly kiss-swollen and slick, and the desire to bite his lower lip or feel the way their unique shape molds to Hugh's lips again is really pressing (particularly in his pants) but Hugh resists the urge. This conversation is important, despite how unfair it is that Mads wants him to talk and think after kissing him like _that_. (Hugh can feel the line of Mads' prick through his slacks, too; _that_ is a distraction...) So while he wants nothing more than to grind back down or lean in for another kiss, he makes himself breathe and makes himself wait, his fingers gripping and relaxing against Mads' shoulders rhythmically.

It doesn't take long for Mads to talk, and the distraction is welcome. Hugh listens, honestly interested, but when Mads details what he _doesn't_ like, Hugh's expression pinches a little in a clearly judgmental manner. He's quick to try to even it out, but he can't quite get on board with the idea of people wearing bloody _diapers_. Christ. 

"Uh, yeah," he says, somewhat awkwardly. It feels almost wrong to be hard after _that_. "No... no interest in those."

But what he _does_ have an interest in is what Mads follows his horror-list up with. The mention of BDSM earns Mads a curious head tilt, contemplative, and Hugh's pupils outright blow wider when Mads details what he means. He thinks of spanking, of Mads' lighthearted threat in the kitchen to spank Sofie, and his flush deepens. Not just a turn of phrase, then. Hugh tries (and fails) to keep from squirming. 

Then Mads mentions _lingerie_ , and instead of leaving it and moving on, he poses it as a question to Hugh, who falters. He opens his mouth, then closes it suddenly, thrown. 

"I... never really had an opinion on it, to be honest. Sofie looked amazing in it, though," he offers. But as he sits there and feels Mads' clothed erection, Hugh can't help but remember Sofie's comments. How _Hugh_ would look... And the memory of the look Mads had sent him suddenly comes back to him, all heated and interested, and well, look at that. Suddenly Hugh _does_ have an opinion.

"Would... you like _me_ to wear it?" He asks, hesitant, definitely awkward, but not judgmental. "I've never thought about it before, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't try it. I'd like to think I've got an open mind, and after what Sofie, uh... hinted at... Is that something you're interested in? Not just _women_ wearing it?"

* * *

Not that Mads considers himself some sort of sex-guru, but he's dabbled. He's been single most of his adult life and has a decently active sex life. He's had quite a lot of different experiences, some more successful than others but that's to be expected. The world of kink and fetish is expansive. Mads has never been that hardcore, he's not into the leather and the whips, he doesn't have a dungeon set up in his house although he _could_. He can't see himself living the lifestyle 24/7 either. He's had more than a few threesomes with various combinations of partners, but turned down the invitation to a legitimate orgy. He thinks needleplay is freaky but he's okay with pinwheels and nipple clamps and toys in general. 

Hugh's world has been rather small. Or at least, the experiences he's had thus far. There's a lot he could possibly introduce to Hugh or ask Hugh directly about... and yet Mads brings up the goddamn _lingerie_. While _he_ doesn't think it's the strangest kink to have, he knows that any sort of crossdressing can be iffy. It's not the most acceptable, but nor is it _really_ out there.

Well, it's now out between them. Mads isn't exactly embarrassed by it. He's thirty-nine. He likes what he likes. He's not about to go changing or feel judged by it. Hugh's dick is still hard and he's still on his lap. Hugh hasn't ran for the hills, so Mads is going to assume it's not a deal breaker and it's not like it's _required_. He takes another drag of his cigarette. While Hugh seems surprised (his mouth opening and closing) Hugh doesn't flip out over it.

What Hugh does is stumble through his response and it's honestly adorable. 

"I guess it's one of those acquired tastes, but you've got a great body, Hugh. I think you'd look really hot in lingerie," Mads comments casually, his eyes looking over Hugh in an obvious way. He can already think of a few different things he'd love to see on Hugh (see, take off, touch through). He leans over the side of the couch to drop his smoke in the tray. Mads slides his hands under Hugh's ass and he squeezes appreciatively. 

"I also have an interest in this ass of yours." He grins playfully at Hugh.

* * *

Hugh isn't sure what he's more surprised over: the fact that Mads really _is_ interested in him wearing lingerie, or the fact that Hugh is considering it. He's not really been exposed to it much. Sure, he knows blokes get dressed up. He knows there are varying kinks, and he tries not to be judgmental for the most part (but still, _diapers_...) but he's never really thought about it. He's not particularly effeminate; he's never questioned his gender, but he's not militant over it either. It's just a thing. Not that lingerie means he's a woman. It's... maybe a little strange to think about, but if Mads likes it, and the idea doesn't make him recoil immediately, why _not_ try it?

His dick might be helping him along a little here, though. He's always been more open to the idea of different kinks when he's riled up (he _does_ watch porn). Then there's the way Mads keeps on looking at him, and... yeah, okay, _that_ is why he wants to do this. Hugh watches, pleasantly aroused, as Mads blatantly checks him out. It makes him feel warmer, but it's a good feeling, boosting his confidence and lessening his nerves. He feels more present, interested in the conversation, but before he can say anything, Mads' hands slide back and Hugh's breath catches. The gentle, warm squeeze is actually really nice, and it makes his overall arousal spike. 

Hugh wets his lips with a quick flick of his tongue, leaning back just a little to encourage Mads. He smiles back, shy but not uncomfortable. 

"And I have an interest in _your_ interest. I like that," he adds, because it feels important that Mads knows he can grope at his apparent whim. "And... if you think I'd look good in lingerie, I'll wear it. I'll leave that up to you. I... wouldn't have any bloody idea what to do, or what to get," he adds, sheepishly, with a little grin.

The grin fades a bit before too long, as if they're detailing what they _like_ now? Hugh has one thing in mind immediately. "I like it when you talk to me... sexually. Possibly a little _too_ much. Erm," Hugh breaks off to chuckle, a little awkward, but his grin is honest. "That's why I couldn't hold back last time. What you said... it was _really_ hot."

* * *

It's only now that Mads is figuring out that Sofie had been aware of the apparent mutual desire that they both had toward each other. Clever lady. Her antics that morning make more sense now. Mads usually prides himself in being able to pick up on such things, but he reasons that he's been off his game since Hugh had moved in. Not that that's a _bad_ thing. Hugh's presence in his home is just different. Mads hasn't lived with anyone since university. But it's more nice than not. 

Hugh Dancy on his lap, his ass in his hands, is definitely nice. Whatever inconveniences or awkwardness he's dealt with is now definitely worth it. And when Hugh smiles, it's almost blinding. What follows is honestly a very pleasant surprise. Mads hadn't been expecting Hugh to be _willing_ to try the lingerie. But he apparently is and Mads can't help but grin in response, his mind 'helpfully' producing images of Hugh in various lingerie pieces he's seen women wear over the years. Mads doesn't own any lingerie, but he can definitely go shopping. Sofie could likely help too.

When Hugh continues on, Mads listens. It's Hugh sharing and it's important. So apparently Hugh likes the dirty talk and 'possibly a little too much.' Mads is endeared. Completely. He grins in response, his own arousal increasing at the knowledge that Hugh had been _that_ into him. 

"Why would I want you to hold back?" Mads asks, his voice a low rumble. After one last appreciative ass squeeze, Mads' hands leave to relocate to Hugh's head and bury in soft hair. He grips, bringing Hugh closer, but tilting his head to the side and giving himself access to Hugh's neck. Mads' tongue slides out as he licks up the expanse of skin. 

"I like you keyed up. Please don't hold back for me."

* * *

This is important. Likes and dislikes are things that the both of them need to know. Mads is most definitely more experienced than Hugh is, but that's not a bad thing, just as Hugh's lack of experience isn't a bad thing so long as Mads doesn't think it is. The grins on both of their faces are honest, and there's something very relaxing about being aroused with someone else and just enjoying the sensation. With any of Hugh's other partners, they would have already been encouraging Hugh to go down on them, or to touch them. That Mads seems content to talk and kiss and grope him lazily is settling in a way. It's comfortable. Hugh likes it.

But as Mads so effortlessly demonstrates, it can turn on a dime. No sooner has Hugh indicated that he likes dirty talk (though in less obvious words) then Mads intentionally lowers his voice to a low, sexy rumble. Hugh's breath catches at the sound, and he immediately looks a little more rapt, his pupils dilating as he squirms ever so slightly. Yeah, he _really_ likes Mads' voice. 

Before he can say so, Mads' hands find his hair, and pull, and while it's not a sudden, forceful yank, it _is_ direction. Hugh thinks Mads is going to kiss him at first, and he's already tensing with anticipation... when Mads' hands turn his head more, baring Hugh's throat, and arousal lances through him sharply. Hugh's moan is thin enough that it's practically a whimper, and his hands find and smooth over Mads' shoulders, gripping and squeezing the muscle beneath as his cock twitches in his pants. 

"F-fuck," Hugh says, shuddering. Then he smiles, shy, but feeling almost giddy despite his breathlessness. "That's... that's really hot. I apparently like it when you... fuck, what do you call it? Manhandle me? I like it when you do a lot of things. I find you _really_ bloody hot. The things you say, the sounds you make, how you touch me..." Hugh pauses to think, and as he does, he slowly grinds down against Mads' cock, enjoying the feel of it, the proof that Mads wants him too. 

"You, um... you mentioned BDSM before. The mild kind. Restraints... spanking."

Hugh trails off on a small shiver, because he doesn't really know where to go from there. He isn't sure he wants the full thing, but if he likes being guided and if Mads has a thing for spanking... maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to try. 

* * *

Hugh may readily discount himself - claiming to be too awkward and accident prone - but Mads really thinks the kid is special. Hugh is both adorable and hot. The blushing, the stammering, the innocence... But that's just one part to Hugh. Hugh is also fiercely intelligent and witty. He's also respectful and thoughtful - a lot more thoughtful than Mads had been at his age. That Hugh is willing to try the lingerie thing and try _this_ type of arrangements shows maturity and an open mindedness. 

The sound that Hugh makes from the lick is damn hot. But maybe it's the hair pulling? He is still trying to work out everything, to discover through trial and error and communication what works for Hugh. Apparently it's _manhandling_ that Hugh likes. At that revelation, Mads feels rock hard. And Hugh continues on, and it sounds a little like a high school crush (because how can Hugh gush about him so earnestly?).

Hugh grinding into him has Mads' fingers gripping soft brown hair in response. But then they loosen as Hugh brings up BDSM and spanking. Mads feels like he's somehow hit the jackpot. Hugh really does have an open mind and Mads feels damn lucky that Hugh would even trust him enough to venture into such territory.

"You wanna try that? Now? Here?" Mads asks, an obvious excited edge on his voice. He nuzzles at Hugh's neck with his nose, breathing him in before asking, "Spanking?"

* * *

As soon as the words are out, it takes all of five seconds for Hugh to begin doubting them. Sure, Mads had mentioned spanking with Sofie, but it doesn't mean he wants to do it. Hugh thinks back, second-guessing himself. People usually have clear, level-headed discussions about this kind of thing, don't they? _Before_ they do it. That's not really what this is, with Mads stroking and gripping at his hair, and letting Hugh grind down against him. They're both hard, their judgement is probably clouded, but Hugh knows he's been thinking about this for awhile. He isn't sure he'd be brave enough to bring it up without arousal as a contributing factor.

To his immense relief, Mads doesn't keep him waiting long before he answers, and Hugh can _hear_ the excitement in his tone. The relief he feels is palpable, and while Hugh's still somewhat nervous because he doesn't know if _he_ is going to like it, he's glad that he can apparently bring things up too. Still, he isn't expecting Mads to suggest trying it _now_. It does make Hugh pause, heat spreading over his skin at the thought. Something hot with arousal twists inside and he wets his lips before he nods. He doesn't want to overthink and change his mind.

"I--... can we?" He asks, instead of trying (and failing) to sound put together and composed. Mads knows he's inexperienced. Hugh isn't about to fake anything here. He's nervous but he's also excited, his pulse quicker but his eyes bright. "You mentioned it in the kitchen, with Sofie. I've... been thinking about it ever since."

Hugh shivers, both at the thought, and at the realization that Mads is actually breathing in his scent. It is... unexpectedly hot (and alarming; had he showered that morning? He's pretty sure he had). Hugh's hands squeeze Mads' shoulders carefully, encouraging. 

"You're going to have to tell me what you want me to do."

* * *

Mads is also beginning to realize that Hugh has likely been thinking about these things for a while now. For weeks at least. While it's nice to know that Hugh has been interested in him, it still seems mind boggling in a way. He feels blindsided. How had he not noticed? Mads never has liked to consider himself naive and yet he hadn't had a clue that Hugh was interested in him. It becomes the truth when Hugh _admits_ to thinking about spanking since the morning with Sofie.

_'You're going to have to tell me what you want me to do.'_

Mads nods, all too eager and still in disbelief that this is actually happening. He's damn lucky. He just hopes he doesn't mess this up. If Hugh is really this inexperienced, he needs to make sure to start slow and small. Baby steps and the like. Mads doesn't want to scar Hugh or give him a bad first impression. What he needs is some Beginners Guide. Spanking 101. BDSM For Newbies. He doesn't have any of that laying around and he isn't about to pull out his tablet to Google this type of thing.

He considers positions for a moment before coming to a decision.

"I want you to lean over the back of the couch," Mads begins, dragging his stubble against Hugh's neck. "It's up to you if you want your boxers or pants on. I won't force you to take anything off that you don't want to." 

That said, Mads helps Hugh off his lap.

* * *

This is really happening. Mads is really going to do this. Not only is he going to do it, he's _okay_ with it. Hell, Hugh's pretty sure he's actually turned on by the idea. 

Hugh's pulse feels quick in his throat as Mads leans in and drags sharp stubble over his skin. It's a heady, thrilling feeling that sends heat all the way through him, pooling low. His cock aches for contact, but the thought of getting so worked up that he comes again immediately is deterring enough to keep him where he is. In a way, he hopes the nerves over not having done _anything_ like this before keep him from embarrassing himself again. In another way, he almost hopes that the strike of Mads' hand might help keep him grounded.

That hope is dashed when Mads adds that he can keep his clothes on if he wants. Hugh thinks, imagining how it would look to strip down just for this, and heat creeps all the way down to his chest as Mads carefully helps Hugh off of his lap and Hugh wets his lips. He's torn, indecisive for a moment, and then nods, quick and eager enough to betray want, but still visibly nervous. 

He steps out of his trousers on the way behind the couch (stopping to take them off so that he doesn't trip) but, after the thought of what he's asked for, he decides to keep his boxers on. Swallowing, Hugh does as he'd been told, leaning over the back of the couch and spreading his legs to better brace himself. 

He can't _believe_ he's actually doing this; his breathing is quick with anticipation. Through it all, he doesn't look away from Mads once. 

"For the record," Hugh says, a little breathless, "I don't object to taking my pants off. I just... don't know how it's going to feel. Maybe once I know what I can, uh... handle."

* * *

This is Hugh's first time doing something like this. It's important to go slow. While of course Mads wants to see Hugh's ass again (see, touch, stroke, lick, bite, fuck--) he's not going to be a creep about it. The added layer of Hugh's pants or boxers would help reduce some of the sting as well. Mads' needs come secondary in this. He wants to simply ensure Hugh is as comfortable as someone can be trying out spanking for the first time.

So Mads isn't disappointed to see Hugh only strip off his pants. Either way, he's quickly rewarded with the sight of Hugh positioning himself behind the back of the couch, torso leaning over it and then legs spreading. Mads’ cock is fully hard just from the sight now. He comes behind the couch, eyes glued on Hugh, admiring his pert ass and lean legs. And then Hugh comments on not taking his pants off and Mads takes a few seconds to remember that Brits refer to undergarments as underpants or pants.

"That's okay, babe," Mads says, coming to stand to the left of Hugh. "As this is your first time, it's important I go over something with you." Mads hand comes to rest on Hugh's lower back, rubbing to soothe. 

"Sometimes when doing these types of activities, a person will sound like they're in pain and protest but not actually _want_ it to stop. Safe words come into play for these kinds of activities. I won't have you think of one now, but if I ask to check in with you, or you need to, please use the colors of traffic lights to let me know what's up. _Red_ is for a complete stop, _Yellow_ is for me slowing down or taking a break, and _Green_ means it's okay, of course. Do you understand?”

* * *

Once more Hugh is caught by just how understanding Mads is. Every time he thinks it can't get better, it does. Hugh's trying not to overthink any of this. It's a lot to suddenly go through, a lot to suddenly decide, but Mads is accepting and encouraging and Hugh feels some of the nervous tension finally leave his shoulders. He looks over at Mads over one shoulder as Mads comes to stand beside him, and while Hugh does startle a little at the touch to his back (he might be a little high-strung) he soon relaxes into it, settling under Mads' touch. 

He listens to the talk about _safe words_ , and while Hugh feels his face start to heat at the very thought - at the implication that he could be the one _making_ those apparent sounds - he appreciates Mads taking his request to heart. He'd asked for Mads to explain and direct him, and he is. While nerves begin to creep back up on him, Mads' solid presence helps. Hugh swallows, but despite his nervousness, he notes that he hasn't actually gone soft. It's promising, and probably quite telling. He still can't really believe that this is actually _happening_.

"Yeah, I understand." Hugh wets his lips, quick, and watches Mads. The warmth against his back is settling; he likes it. "Red for stop, yellow for wait, green for okay. Could... you keep your hand there?" He adds, quietly. "Or somewhere, at least? While you, uh... do everything else? I like the way it feels. It's kind of comforting."

* * *

Like this, it's difficult to see if Hugh is still hard. Of course having an erection or staying hard isn't a requirement for spanking to begin or continue. Mads isn't overly worried if Hugh does get soft either. This is a test, a trial for Hugh to embark on (with him no less). Sampling something Hugh thinks he _could_ be interested in. Besides, there exists mental arousal too. Mads isn't going to be surprised in the least of Hugh does go soft because of the newness, possible awkwardness, or the pain. 

Mads gives a short nod when Hugh repeats back the colors and their associated meanings. It's important that Hugh be on the same page as him. Mads doesn't want to hurt Hugh - unless Hugh actually likes it.. The question of keeping his hand on Hugh honestly surprises him. As usual, it’s endearing.

"Of course I can," Mads replies, seeing absolutely no problem with keeping one hand on Hugh as a means of comfort or support or connection. Mads brings his right hand to simply stroke down the swell of Hugh's ass. "You can ask or give me directions if you need. Breathe deeply through this. I'll start light."

Mads does. It's more of a swat if anything, but he has no idea of Hugh's pain tolerance and he wants to get him used to the idea and touch first. Mads swats at Hugh's other cheek before increasing the force a little bit. 

"You look so hot like this, bent over the couch for me. You doing okay so far?"

* * *

Hugh has never really thought about this before. Before Mads, thoughts of being _spanked_ had never been something that had given him any pleasure. On the contrary, it had been a sign of having done something wrong. It had been a reprimand. But ever since Mads' comment to Sofie, Hugh's been thinking about it. 

He'd actually looked it up a little before this, though he'd immediately been embarrassed and nervous that Mads might somehow catch him, so he'd wiped his browsing history. But it had been enough to spark an interest. _Mads_ is enough to spark an interest, and while Hugh doesn't think he's into the idea of pain, he does like the idea of giving Mads something he wants, of the thought of Mads' hands on him, and of possibly having faint marks for a little while.

He listens as Mads speaks, calming some of his remaining concerns. Mads tells him he can talk or give direction, which Hugh appreciates. And at the direction to breathe, Hugh does so. He draws in a deep, slow breath, and when Mads' hand first comes down on his ass, it's more a shock than anything painful. Hugh's breath catches and he waits for the burn, but it never comes. 

All he feels is a little warmth, and a _lot_ of warmth in his cheeks. It only increases at the next swat, and when Mads' next strike actually does sting a little bit, Hugh squirms but doesn't pull away. 

He's not expecting Mads to check in with him, but when he does, Hugh feels suddenly and completely grateful and relieved. He focuses on Mads' touch and on the tingling over his skin. Then he nods, quickly wetting his lips. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm-- uh, green," Hugh says, remembering the earlier instructions. But he's never been great at keeping his mouth shut when he's nervous (something Mads clearly knows) so Hugh can't help a small, awkwardly breathless laugh as he rests his cheek on the back of his folded arms. 

"I don't... really know how I expected it to feel, or what I thought I'd get out of it. But I wasn't expecting _this_."

He shifts again, idly noting his slightly quicker pulse and the energy buzzing under his skin. His cock is still hard, possibly harder. "It feels... intimate? Christ, I hope that's not awkward to say. I'm just _really_ aware of you like this. I like it."

* * *

Mads wouldn't say he's got loads of experience in spanking (because he actually doesn't). Most of his partners had been okay with receiving a few taps - more playful or surprising than an all-out commitment. Hugh could be one of those people. A legitimate spanking session is more rare, an acquired taste if anything.

Mads falls into the former category. He likes the occasional spank to keep him guessing (a frisky partner is fun) but he can't imagine being in Hugh's position - of willingly bending over and receiving them. Shit. Mads once again is reminded of how fucking lucky he is that Hugh is even willing to try - and with him, no less.

Hugh seems okay. Squirming, but not pushing away or saying Red. It's a good sign. It really is. Still, Mads needs to check in. Hugh's answer brings relief to Mads and he can't help but smile, the hand on Hugh's lower back rubbing against smooth skin. God, the sight of Hugh's pert ass presented for him... 

_'It feels... intimate? Christ, I hope that's not awkward to say. I'm just **really** aware of you like this. I like it.'_

Huh. Mads hadn't been expecting that. Leave it to Hugh to surprise him. It makes sense, though. He thinks. He's never thought about it too deeply. He's never had to.

"It's not awkward, babe," Mads says warmly. He steps in closer, pressing his erection into the side of Hugh's hip. "I obviously do like it. I like you willing to try this with me and being honest." Mads' hand comes down and spanks again, a little harder this time. "Such a good boy for me, Hugh." The next spank is on the other cheek.

* * *

As soon as the words are out, Hugh wonders if it's too much to say to someone he's not dating, but it's true. He can't think of another way to describe it right now, but he's very aware of Mads. Hugh's aware of the warmth of his hand and every slight sound of effort that precedes each swat. There's a warmth in each blow, and a connection that mixes with his slight embarrassment that he's even allowing Mads to _do_ this to him. 

He isn't sure what's more surprising: that he's gone through with it, or that he thinks he might like it. It doesn't really hurt past a low warmth, and it pretty much guarantees that he has to pay attention to Mads, not to anything else.

So hearing that it's _not_ awkward as far as Mads is concerned helps. Tension leaves Hugh's back (aided by the warmth of Mads' touch) and he's about to speak up when Mads steps in a little closer and Hugh feels the sudden press of Mads' clothed prick against his hip. He can feel the warmth immediately and the knowledge that Mads is hard because of _him_ is enough to make Hugh moan. It's a sound that suddenly gets louder when Mads spanks him again, and while that one _does_ hurt a little, it's a sudden spike of sensation that fades into a warmth that makes him want to squirm.

" _Mads_ ," Hugh breathes, and he's going to say more (though he hasn't decided what) when Mads' final addition reaches his ears. 

The phrase ' _good boy'_ hits him so hard that he can feel his boxers suddenly feeling a little slicker where the tip of his dick presses against the fabric. It's a rush of sensation only compounded by the next strike of Mads' hand, and Hugh's hips give a few quick, aborted jerks towards the couch as he chokes on a moan. His attempt to bite it back only makes it sound like a whine instead, and Hugh closes his eyes. A part of him feels embarrassed by the sound he makes - by his _response_ \- but the rest of him is caught by what Mads had said. How many times has he come in his hand just by _imagining_ Mads saying that to him? _Good boy._

He can feel the rush of desire like fire under his skin, and he feels like a stray touch to his cock might set him off. There's a definite tremble in his muscles.

"F-fuck, wait, _yellow_ ," Hugh hisses, and then immediately gasps out, "it's not the spanking. I just... I might come."

* * *

It honestly takes Mads a moment to comprehend what he's done that has Hugh so worked up. One minute he's speaking and then the next Hugh's hips jerk forward as if he's trying to get some friction or hump the back of the couch (still hot). A moan sounds that turns into a whine (really hot). It's then Mads rethinks his words - _such a good boy for me, Hugh..._

Good boy? That must be it.

Before Mads can think to do anything about the realization he hears _Yellow_. And then the addition that it's not the _spanking_ , but that Hugh had been about to come. It takes Mads only a few seconds to wrap his head around what's just transpired.

"And that's a problem?" Mads asks - it's obviously a rhetorical question. He doesn't spank again though. Instead, the hand on Hugh's lower back slides down and he just rubs over the previously spanked areas, knowing that there should be a pleasant sting beginning. He then remembers how bothered Hugh had been about not being able to reciprocate last time.

"Just because you come, that doesn't mean you we have to be done here," Mads murmurs and he bends over to nuzzle at Hugh's shoulder. 

"I'll play with you as long as you want." His voice is low. Mads' dick is hard - harder than it possibly should be, but whatever. He kisses a shoulder blade before moving to kiss down Hugh's spine. In between kisses he asks: "Is that what my _good_ _boy_ wants? Don't want this to be over yet?"

* * *

He's so bloody close that it's honestly embarrassing. Despite knowing that Mads hadn't minded the last time, Hugh still feels heat crawling up the back of his neck. He's close because of everything Mads has done, but it's also the realization that his curious little fantasy might not _just_ be a fantasy. He hadn't expected hearing the words to strike him so hard, but hearing them said so emphatically, with the warm, broad strike of Mads' palm over his ass... yeah, Hugh uses his word. It doesn't really help, though; he feels wired, his prick throbbing, his teeth gnawing at his lower lip.

The slow slide of Mads' hand down over his ass has Hugh's hips twitching and a soft, tight moan escaping him. Mads' touch draws attention to the mild sting he feels, warming it into a pleasant burn that goes right to his cock. But it's Mads' words - the fact that his voice gets louder as he moves closer - that do the most damage. 

Hugh shudders and pants, struggling for control as he presses his cheek tighter to his forearm, but Mads' voice is low and _bloody hot_ in his ear. Hugh squirms both at the tone and at the _promise_ \- the knowledge that Mads will keep on going if Hugh lets him. He's about to nod, about to try and reply, but then Mads' voice sounds one last time.

' _Is that what my **good boy** wants? Don't want this to be over yet?'_

"Oh, God," Hugh chokes. 

As heat pools low in his abdomen in a quick rush, he makes a sudden, awkward attempt to jerk one arm down from the back of the couch. It's sudden and clumsy, and even though Hugh hasn't _told_ Mads about those two words, he gets the distinct feeling that Mads _knows_. The thought - that Mads had known and had said it anyway is more than enough. 

So while Hugh jerks a hand down to press against his dick in an attempt to initially stave _off_ orgasm, it rushes over him at the first touch. His gasp is sharp and the resulting cry is a clipped sound - the sound of someone who's gotten used to coming quietly - and Hugh snaps his hips forward, grinding in against his hand as his cock jerks and he comes, the fabric of his boxers soaking through almost immediately. All he can gasp out - the only answer he can give - is a desperate, half-sobbed, "please, please, oh Mads, _please_."

* * *

Mads is no expert. He doesn't know why "good boy" (or "girl" for that matter) seem to rile up certain partners. Is it a Daddy-thing? He's not exactly interested in quizzing partners over it either. What works, works. Mads isn't going to complain about it. Laying on the praise and dirty talk and encouragement... Well, he really likes doing it. It's not any hassle in the least, never has been. And while he's never cared to ask _former_ partners, the way Hugh wiggles and pants, the way he seems to be unable to stay still or quiet... Mads finds himself a little interested in _why._

So he uses it again - because why _wouldn't_ he? If Hugh likes it, Mads is going to indulge in it and see just how fidgety and desperate Hugh can become. Because Mads had been kissing down Hugh's back, he can't quite make out the jerky motion that follows it. It becomes evident quickly enough as Hugh's hips jerk forward and a lovely surprised gasp and a half-choked sound of pleasure are heard. 

Mads straightens so he can witness Hugh trembling through his orgasm. He rubs both hands soothingly over Hugh's back, remembering how Hugh seemed to like the constant connection. It only gets better when Hugh begs - pleading for what exactly? Him not to stop, Mads assumes. His hands come to rest on Hugh's hips and he holds firmly as he steps around, a knee coming in between Hugh's legs to spread them open. Mads slides behind, blatantly pressing his dick into Hugh's ass. 

"My good boy is quite sensitive... Don't worry I'm still here, still hard for you," Mads says warmly. He has no plans on fucking Hugh, but it's still nice to be in the position. Mads hands then stroke down, spreading Hugh's cheeks apart. While the sight would be much nicer without the boxers, he's still glad that he can touch at all. 

"You think you can take a few more spanks?"

* * *

A part of Hugh wants to be embarrassed as pleasure pulses thick and hot through him, his boxers becoming slick with his come, but his mind feels eclipsed to everything but Mads' touch. The press of lips against his back becomes the slide of Mads' hands, and Hugh's breaths escape him on hitched gasps as his hips jerk and he arches his back against Mads' touch. 

Not even he knows what he's asking for but Mads seems to, and Hugh is left achingly grateful that one of them has the experience needed. It only compounds higher when Mads maneuvers in behind him, and before the pleasure has even truly begun to abate into aftershocks, Mads steps in close, urges Hugh's legs to spread, and there's no denying the way Mads presses up against him from behind.

He knows immediately that it's Mads' cock he can feel, and the knowledge that Mads is as hard as he is, coupled with the _position_ he's put himself into is enough to make Hugh moan helplessly. His cock pulses again, dribbling a little more come, and there's a definite tremble in Hugh's muscles as he hesitates, and then presses back. He can feel the outline of Mads' cock and he likes it. He wants to taste it again, to touch, to do _something._ But instead Mads' voice all but purrs his praise and a fresh wave of helpless pleasure curls through Hugh. He makes a small sound, strangled, but it's too soon to really come again, even if he is still mostly hard. 

It doesn't stop the trembling, and it doesn't stop his arousal, even if most of it is mental. And when Mads' hands come down to his ass and spread his cheeks, Hugh's face heats up, but the knowledge of what he wants hits him harder than Mads' hands had. He shivers as he turns his head as best as he can, trying to look back at Mads over his shoulder, his expression dazed with pleasure and sensitivity. 

"T-take them off," Hugh breathes. "You can, if you want. I want you to. I'd like to feel you." He swallows, struggling to think past the pleasant buzzing under his skin. "A-and yeah. Yes. I can take more. _Christ_ , Mads, please."

* * *

Hugh is sensitive and expressive in a way that is honestly both refreshing and intoxicating. Mads doesn't want to miss a single reaction, not the quieter sounds or the trembling in Hugh's muscles. He's afraid if he blinks for too long he'll miss something, some little response Hugh gives him. Admittedly, Mads has had a lot of partners, he's observed many different reactions... But none of them have captivated him like Hugh's.

God, Mads hopes he's just not some perv getting off on how young and inexperienced Hugh is. He's never been into that before...

When Hugh looks back over his shoulder, Mads is taken aback by the stunned expression on the kid's face. Hugh looks dazed from pleasure and it's a sight that Mads wishes he could take a picture to capture it. Hugh's answer is better than Mads could hope for. At first Mads is a little concerned because he doesn't want to be allowed to do something just because _he_ wants to. But Hugh continues and admits that he does actually want his boxers taken off. 

And then more begging. Mads is pretty sure that's going to be the death of him. He groans as he rubs against Hugh's ass one more time before backing away to give him enough room to begin pulling down Hugh's boxers. 

"I got ya," Mads murmurs. The boxers are sticky from come but he manages to work them down past Hugh's thighs and then leaves them around Hugh's ankles.

Mads marvels at the rosy tinge to Hugh's shapely ass. His palms rub over both cheeks appreciatively, the skin slightly warm from his touch. 

"Your ass looks so pretty, Hugh. Nice and pink for me." Mads says and gives another spank but with both hands this time. He then drags his nails across the swell of Hugh's ass just to vary the sensation. "Do you want harder or keep it at this level?'

* * *

It occurs to Hugh a few seconds after he asks Mads to take his pants off that he's pretty sure they hadn't got this far even that evening a month ago. Hugh had woken up with his boxers _on,_ not sore, not slick, nothing to indicate Mads had even seen him fully naked. The thought lingers as Mads groans, and while Hugh shivers as he feels the hard press of Mads' cock against his ass - through layers of clothing - he can't help but be a little nervous. It's tinged with a lazy, satisfied anticipation but he's only human. Being naked is being vulnerable, especially given what they've been doing.

Christ, that's _twice_ he's come through non-traditional methods with Mads. Hugh wants to protest that he's never been this sensitive before with other people, but he's never really liked other people as much as he likes Mads. Comfort plays a part in sex, apparently. He'll muse on it later, when his skin isn't buzzing with sated sensitivity and his heart isn't pounding at the thought of feeling Mads against him properly. 

Hugh helps Mads as much as he can (though given how boneless and weak he feels, that's not much). He squirms to help Mads lower his boxers, and Hugh feels his face burn pleasantly when the last barrier is gone. He holds his breath without thinking in the seconds of silence that follow, and he only lets it out when Mads comments appreciatively. There's no denying the flutter of giddy pleasure in his chest and Hugh smiles despite himself. He's sensitive - sensitive enough that when Mads' hands come down on his skin, Hugh bites back a sound that threatens to be a whine - but he's inordinately pleased. 

The gentle scratch of Mads' nails against his ass makes the burn somehow hotter and Hugh's breath catches, sudden and sharp. He groans, his skin tingling and almost itchy-sore with redness, but it translates to a low, confusing pleasure. He likes it, and while the spank _had_ been a little more like this, it feels so much more intimate like this. Hugh wets his lips.

"You can go a little harder. And I really liked the- the scratching thing," he breathes, cheek pressed to the back of his forearm. "It's sensitive, but it's not bad. Do _you_ like this?"

* * *

This still feels a bit like a dream. A really fucking good dream, like he can fly or that he's won the lottery and is retiring on an island with a swarm of hot ladies in bikinis. But instead of that, it's a nearly naked Hugh Dancy, dazed from his recent orgasm, pants and boxers pulled down and ass still up in the air for him. Still bent over his couch, the smell of come and sweat mixing with the lingering smoke. Hugh is still up for more - interested in more. Hugh is definitely indulging him and Mads feels very damn lucky. 

He also hopes he doesn't fuck it up, but so far, so good.

Mads is still dressed in a black dress shirt and grey dress pants that are a little too tight in the crotch area due to his erection. He's in no hurry to get off, though. Hugh doesn't need to even be involved - Mads is perfectly able to take care of it later... Although Mads still remembers how it had seemed to bother Hugh that he hadn't reciprocated last time with the almost blowjob. So maybe that won't happen tonight.

He hardly needs it to be confirmed that Hugh _likes_ the scratch of nails. The gasp that turns into a groan tells him as much. Mads is smiling. He'll make sure to remember that. Where else might Hugh like the scrape of nails? He'll need to investigate.

_'Do **you** like this?'_

Mads lets his nails scratch up harder over the reddened skin. "How could I not, babe?" Mads asks, although he's not expecting an answer. He steps in closer and presses his own clothed hardness now against bare skin. 

"Jeg er vild med dig," Mads says suddenly in Danish as his eyes gaze up the pretty line of Hugh's body. _(I am crazy about you._ ) He'd had no intention in saying that - on admitting it - and he definitely has no plans on translating it for Hugh.

Instead, Mads spanks harder. And then harder yet. "I like all the noises you make, I like you squirming. You've got me all worked up, Hugh."

* * *

It's admittedly a silly question, given that Hugh had been able to feel the press of Mads' prick against his clothed ass, but he feels a little drunk on sensation. His body is awash in the afterglow of his orgasm, but each scratch of Mads' nails and each strike of his hand just heightens that lighter feeling, just makes him feel like he _could_ get hard again if it lasted long enough. Hugh's not going to push for that; there's a kind-of-thrill in the idea of Mads touching and scratching and spanking for _himself_ as well as for Hugh. Which is likely why he asks the question he does. And when the answer is a sudden, harder scratch of nails, Hugh's breath catches on a gasp and he squirms, like he isn't sure whether to pull away or press back into it. 

Then Mads presses in close again and Hugh stills to focus on the feeling. Heat colors his cheeks and the desire to ask if he can get on his knees and suck Mads' dick _is_ there. Before he can, though, the soft, near-purr of a language he doesn't know rolls off of Mads' tongue. He tenses and then he moans, the sound higher and pitched and surprised, because _Christ_ he doesn't know what Mads just said, but it sparks across his skin like wildfire. 

It's Danish, he realizes; Mads is from Denmark. It makes sense that he can speak another language, but Hugh's never _thought_ about it until now. It's ridiculous; Mads could have been saying anything, could have been talking about work, but it still threatens to go to his cock. The tremble in Hugh's muscles says as much, and when Mads spanks him again, harder, he muffles a soft sound in the back of his throat. But when he spanks even _harder_ , the sudden, burning sting makes him cry out. His nails slide against the back of Mads' couch and when he grips at it again, he feels a little drunk on sensation.

Hearing that Mads is worked up, suddenly blowing him doesn't seem like enough. Hugh shudders, thinks about their position, and the answer hits him before he can be uncertain or embarrassed about it.

"You... you don't need to keep your bottoms on. You can push against me like you have been, but I'd like to- to feel it," Hugh shivers. "I want you to come, too. I want to know I helped."

* * *

From Hugh tensing and then moaning, the kid seems to like him using Danish. Mads doesn't have a chance to speak in his native tongue often. It's usually reserved for phone calls back home to his parents or brother. But seeing Hugh's response... Well, maybe he'll be using Danish a little more often (although he'll have to be careful because he's certain if he continues, Hugh would eventually ask for the translation and Mads wouldn't want to lie).

Mads monitors Hugh's response to the harder spanks. He's not here to beat Hugh black and blue. Mads isn't really some hardcore sadist. It's not necessarily _better_ for Mads if Hugh is badly bruised, although it's always nice to see lingering marks. Mads has always been a fan of hickies and lovebites after all.

He's honestly not expecting the invitation to pull down his "bottoms" and push against Hugh - for Hugh to feel it and help him to come. Mads licks his lips, trying to rein himself back in and not rip his dress pants and boxers down and start rutting against Hugh's ass like some horndog. He has patience. 

"Okay, I can do that," Mads murmurs, his tone nothing but warm and pleased. 

His hands come and undo the button on his slacks, dragging the zipper down and Mads efficiently works his pants and boxers down his legs before stepping out of them and kicking them away. His cock is fully hard, a bit of precome smeared against the tip. Mads takes himself in hand and steps in behind Hugh, lining up his cock to slide lightly against Hugh's asscheeks. He doesn't spread them, he doesn't seek to rub directly against Hugh's hole, content just to feel warm skin and see Hugh's reddened ass.

"You feel how hard you've got me, babe?" 

For good measure, Mads scratches again.

* * *

It's a testament to how far gone Hugh is that he doesn't immediately regret what he'd said. Instead of recoiling or cringing in embarrassment, the desire to feel Mads against his skin only triples. He shakes, and when Mads goes still, Hugh doesn't panic. Instead he looks back over his shoulder, desperate and still breathless. He feels momentarily sated; it could change, or he could let that be it. All he _really_ wants is to see Mads come. 

So when Mads agrees and then carefully draws back to undo his trousers, Hugh cranes his neck a little more. He can't see, but it doesn't stop him from _wanting_ to. Feeling it is a close second, though, and when the sudden heat of Mads' cock comes to press gently against his skin - not assuming, not trying to press against him for real - Hugh feels almost dizzy with it. The desire that he feels is both physical and mental, and he feels his own spent prick give a small throb of want. Mads feels good against him, and knowing that Hugh is the cause of this is somehow better than the way Mads' nails again find his ass (though not by much).

Hugh's hiss exhales into a muffled whimper and he finally lets his head fall back down onto his folded arms. His muscles are trembling with the effort but he doesn't care; he doesn't even think as he pushes back against Mads, able to feel the scratch of hair and the warmth of his skin. He immediately feels a little drunk with pleasure and his own awed giddiness that this is even _happening_.

"Yeah," Hugh says, and his answer is a half moan, half breathless, _thrilled_ laugh. "Yeah, Christ, I can. Is... is there anything I can do? To help?"

* * *

Hugh can't really see, but he tries, and the sight of the kid attempting to look over his shoulder is endearing. Mads supposes if he was in Hugh's position, he'd want to look too, especially if all of this was new. When Mads returns to the task of scratching at Hugh's reddened skin, Hugh's accompanying sound is nothing short of fucking hot. He wonders what other sounds he could pull out of Hugh...

Hugh pushes back against him. It's not much friction, but the knowledge and intention aren't peanuts. It's _something_ and it has Mads giving a throaty moan in response. He won't be able to come like this, sliding against soft, warm skin. And while Mads likes getting off, it's hardly the most important thing for _him_.

But Hugh wants him to. He's reminded again as Hugh offers to do something - to help. 

"Just rock back against me," Mads instructs. He lets his palm come to rest over top his dick as he nestles it closer to Hugh and Mads thrusts a little. It's a somewhat poor simulation of sex, but it'll do. Mads is very turned on by Hugh - by everything he's been allowed - and if he just relaxes and goes with the flow, he's fairly certain he can come. 

"You could... Talk to me. Tell me what you're feeling, what you uh - what you think you'd like to try next?" Somehow asking Hugh to talk dirty seems old and pervy...

* * *

Hugh's offer isn't idle, but nor does he know what he's getting himself into. Mads really could ask for anything at this point, and Hugh is fairly certain that he'd be tempted to at least try. He feels _good_ , his skin buzzing with pleasure, and the physical proof that Mads is turned on by him is a heady boost to his confidence. While a part of him does care that he'd come so quickly thanks to Mads figuring out the whole _good boy_ thing, the rest of him just feels... desirable. It's a new feeling, and he likes it. He feels warm and lazy, and like his whole focus is on Mads.

So when Mads' hand comes to rest on his back, Hugh knows what he's doing. He feels the glide of Mads' prick over his skin and he doesn't hesitate in rocking back. It takes him a moment to find Mads' rhythm, but when he does, the _thought_ of how they must look is enough to bring heat to his cheeks. It's a heat that only darkens when he realizes what Mads is hinting at. 

Had he not already come, Hugh's pretty sure he'd be too embarrassed to say anything, but given how badly he wants Mads to come... he swallows and nods, breathless. Hugh thinks, but he doesn't have to think long, as the answer comes to him immediately.

"I want to suck you," he blurts out, but he doesn't rush to correct himself. He _does_ want that. "I've been thinking about it for weeks. Same as this, but.... for longer. I want to be able to watch you. To... feel you come."

Hugh's shiver is quick but obvious. He rolls his hips back again, feeling the drag of Mads' cock over his skin. "I want to explore. To try new things. I haven't really done a lot, but there's _so much_ I want to do with you. God, you feel good," Hugh adds, wetting his lips. "I... maybe you could use your fingers sometime?" 

Mads _had_ said he liked Hugh's ass, and Hugh is curious. 

* * *

Mads doesn't want to take advantage of Hugh in any regard. He knows Hugh is young and eager, he's also riding high on his orgasm and this is further than he thought they would go tonight. Mads has assumed maybe it'd be a bit of making out, some grinding, maybe a mutual handjob or blowjob... This is Hugh practically naked, bent over his couch, Mads pressing his cock against his skin and Hugh rocking back against him.

It's gentle, it's not frenzied, but it's something. It's Hugh involved and still looking interested. And then Hugh is blurting out that he wants to apparently suck Mads and Mads bites his lip as his hips give a rougher jerk against Hugh's ass. _Weeks..._ Hugh had said weeks. Damn. Mads hadn't been expecting that. Hugh mentions a 'same as this' but Mads is wondering exactly what 'this' is in Hugh's mind. The spanking? The foray into domination? The _good boy_ thing? But it doesn't matter. Not right now, at least.

Mads' stomach clenches as pleasure steadily increases. He rocks against Hugh's skin, his hand cupping his cock tightly. It's a little dry, but it's fine. It will do. 

_'I haven't really done a lot, but there's so **much** I want to do with you. God, you feel good.'_

Mads is invested. He can't wait to discuss and learn all of this with Hugh. And then Hugh mentions fingers and that's... that's damn intimate. Hugh has never had anal-anything. Fingering. Rimming. Sex. And Mads knows that as soon as he'd found that out, he couldn't take Hugh's virginity - that he couldn't fuck the kid. Hugh deserves to be loved for the first time. To make love, not just to fuck. To be with someone who adores him, but fingers... Introducing Hugh to the concept, making sure he knows how it's done right? He could do that.

Mads' orgasm creeps up on him and before he can even answer the question, he's coming hotly over Hugh's ass with a surprised groan and then murmuring Hugh's name out.

* * *

Hugh honestly wants more than Mads' fingers, but Mads had asked specifically what Hugh wanted _next_ , not five or ten or twenty times down the road (God, he hopes they'll get to that). Hugh honestly wants to explore this whole BDSM thing a little more, to talk, to understand. He wants to find some way to explore Mads' lingerie thing without needing to walk into a store because Hugh is _fairly_ certain that he might die of embarrassment out of principle alone. He wants to explore, to touch all the skin that Mads keeps showing him when he cooks breakfast in his boxers, and he wants to let Mads pick sometimes, to maybe show him something he's got no bloody clue about now. 

More than any of it, though, he wants to do what they've _been_ doing. He wants Mads to steal his textbooks when he's getting stressed and then make Hugh sit back and watch awful reality telly that's unnecessarily dramatic in America. And he wants to fool around, to de-stress with Mads' hands and lips and the familiar comfort. 

He doesn't say so, though. It's not what Mads means. But asking to suck him, asking for his fingers? That's safe, as far as he knows. But instead of answering his question, instead of confirming it for Hugh, instead Hugh is treated to something better. 

He feels the snap of Mads' hips, the tremble in his hand, and Hugh is shocked into silence as heat spills over his ass. Mads' surprised groan goes right to his own cock and Hugh shudders, going still to let Mads thrust on his own. The knowledge that Mads is coming is nothing short of thrilling; Hugh feels more than just a little giddy with it. 

There's no way he can hide the pleased, tired grin on his lips as he lazily looks back over his shoulder, pleased and sated and all the _more_ satisfied because he'd just helped Mads to come. The knowledge is probably more arousing than it should be. 

"And this," Hugh breathes, sounding a little dazed. "I like getting you off."


	6. What's the verdict?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I mean... s'only fair, right? You're touching me. Fair trade. Don't stop," he adds, hastily, because he doesn't want Mads to interpret that incorrectly. "I like you touching me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, at least for us, but next chapter is yummy and cute and has more written on it since we split up this one (I'm tired, does that make sense?)
> 
> Mads written by Merry ([tumblr](http://merrythought.tumblr.com)) | Hugh written by Dapperscript ([tumblr](http://reallymisscoffee.tumblr.com/))

Mads can't really complain about his arrangement with Hugh. It's damn near perfect in his mind. Hugh seems mature about it. The kid hasn't gotten clingy or weird. Sure, there's a little bit of a shy awkwardness Mads sees. Hugh still blushes and stammers sometimes when Mads gets flirty (because now Mads allows himself to get that way).

Hugh is likely curious about how things will go between them, but Mads has no set guidelines for this type of thing other than perhaps don't try and force it. As the next few days pass, they become more comfortable with their newfound closeness. They kiss (usually him initiating, but Hugh has gotten better at doing it too). They sit close to each other on the couch and sometimes Mads pulls Hugh into his lap for a bit. They don't hug goodbye, but sometimes when Mads comes home after work, he sweeps Hugh into his arms and kisses him silly just because he can. It's fun. It's harmless. It feels good.

And Mads may not be one for relationships, but he's always loved touch. He can't live without human contact, without having a body to find warmth and pleasure in. He doesn't think it makes him a bad person. He's not a player. He's open and upfront about his lifestyle. And while they're not overly mushy, it's still a comfortable physical closeness between Hugh and him.

This morning, while Mads appreciates the company, Hugh doesn't seem very awake. It's a little after 6:30 AM on a school day. That's a good enough reason for most people to be tired. Mads hadn't forced him to come along, but Hugh had stated adamantly that he wouldn't mind jogging with him, so they've headed out in the brisk morning. It's still dreary and chilly, but there's little ice at this point. When winter arrives, Mads will be going swimming in the morning instead.

"Hey come on, I'll race you to that bench and then we'll have a rest."

Hugh looks less enthused about a race but he goes along with it. Mads is grinning, standing in his red track suit looking pleased as Hugh arrives a few seconds later at the bench. Mads plops down on the park bench and motions for Hugh to join him. Whether it's next to him, or on his lap, it's up for Hugh to decide.

* * *

The thing that surprises Hugh the most over the next few days is how _comfortable_ he feels with Mads. He'd never really felt uncomfortable, but there's an amiable closeness that comes from the whole arrangement, apparently.

Mads is tactile. Hugh had seen evidence of it before, but being the _recipient_ of it is something completely different. There's no real limit on Mads' impulsive nature, from touching Hugh's back when they cook, to near-endless flirting in the mornings when Hugh's filter is down and he's forgotten to throw on a pair of sweatpants. It's comfortable. It's really good, in fact, and bit by bit, Hugh begins to come out of his shell. He learns that there is footing underneath him that means he can push _back_. It isn't just Mads grabbing him at random and kissing him breathless. Hugh tries it once or twice as well, though the first time he's so worried he's not allowed to that he almost trips over himself when he greets Mads at the door.

It soon becomes apparent that he _can_ give as good as he's getting, though, and the comfort and ease that comes with the knowledge makes Hugh smile. He's free to touch Mads in the morning, and free to crawl onto his lap when Hugh doesn't approve of the programming on TV that Mads tries to make him watch in the evenings. It's new, but it doesn't take long for Hugh to get onto this new schedule, and to enjoy the freedom that comes with it.

Of course... he _might_ be regretting his idea to go jogging with Mads. Just a little bit.

Jogging had been fine in theory, but Hugh hadn't really understood _how early_ Mads gets up to go running. So despite the fact that he definitely enjoys Mads' company, there is no part of Hugh that is really awake that morning.

To his credit, he doesn't trip over his shoelaces and he doesn't fall too far behind. He hadn't even really _noticed_ how out of shape he'd been getting until now, though. Sure, Mads has an inch or two on him, but Hugh's young and spry (Mads' words) and yet Hugh most definitely does _not_ manage to beat Mads in the race he suggests. He's only a second or two behind, but he's out of breath when he arrives.

Hugh doesn't even _think_ about crawling onto Mads' lap; he's too focused on the ache in his legs as he sits down heavily, wishing he'd thought to throw on a pair of shorts that morning instead of the black sweatpants he'd worn instead. In his defense, it had been _cold_ , but it's sure as Hell not cold _now_.

"You do this _every morning?_ " Hugh pants. He might not have sat down on Mads' lap (they're in public) but it doesn't stop him from leaning over to slump against his side. Hugh's head comes to rest on Mads' shoulder as he catches his breath.

"Christ, no wonder you're so bloody fit."

* * *

Mads doesn't actually _enjoy_ jogging, but he already smokes and drinks too much so staying in good shape is important. He can tell he's turning 40 this month -- his knees are more achy. He definitely prefers cycling or swimming instead of jogging. Mads has no plans on telling Hugh about this birthday, however. He's not one for birthday celebrations -- or at least not his own. Speaking of birthdays, he should probably ask Hugh about his.

Christ, Hugh is _20_. He still can hardly believe that this young vibrant thing likes him in _any_ capacity, but he's not about to question it. Mads doesn't suffer from low self-esteem, he doesn't need to ask if Hugh is certain. He trusts the kid to know what he wants (at least a little).

There's really no time to talk while running, both of them sweaty and panting from the exertion. So Mads isn't sure if Hugh had wanted to come along to spend time with him or for the cardio aspect. He could ask, but he's okay with not knowing.

Hugh comes to sit beside him and while he doesn't get onto his lap, Mads is happy that Hugh leans against him. He has no issues with public displays of affection, but they haven't exactly talked about specific details concerning PDA and the two of them.

"I don't exactly _enjoy_ it," Mads comments with a chuckle. "But gotta stay fit if I want to sleep with good looking people like yourself." He elbows Hugh playfully before deciding to ease his arm around Hugh and pull him in closer. "Tell you what, you keep up with me on our way back and I'll shower with you."

* * *

There's a gym at the University. If he'd wanted straight cardio, it would have been a simple enough matter to just go after class, or after work. Mads might not ask, but Hugh knows why he'd gotten up at six in the morning, and it's not for bloody _cardio_.

It's for this. It's for the teasing and the banter and the warmth of Mads' arm against Hugh's side. It's somewhat shamelessly also for the little glance that Hugh sneaks when Mads chuckles. The sight of his smile, the way his sweaty hair falls down in front of his face, and the flush to his skin that Hugh knows is probably doubled on his own is _hot_. When Mads comes back from running, he always looks fit as Hell, but seeing it _during_ is something else entirely. Were Hugh not so tired, he'd be a little concerned about getting aroused, but thankfully Mads is keeping him worn out. How he can run as _long_ as he can is beyond Hugh...

Hugh leans forward a little instinctively when Mads winds an arm around him and Hugh doesn't even think as he lets himself be pulled in close. This close, Hugh can smell Mads' sweat, and it _should_ be unpleasant, but Hugh secretly thinks he smells good. He understands a bit of it, some biochemical harmony shite that he should probably study for Bio, but he's too tired, and he'd rather experience it.

He rests his head on Mads' shoulder with a soft groan that bleeds into a shy chuckle when Mads mentions Hugh being 'good looking' (Christ, he's easy, and he knows it) but when Mads goes _on_.... well, _that_ is something that Hugh has a vested interest in.

He blinks and looks up at Mads sharply, and after a slightly stunned moment (where his imagination is _very_ helpful, thanks) Hugh's lips pull into a wider, appraising grin.

"See, now _that's_ incentive. If you'd told me I'd be getting rewards for keeping up with you from the beginning, I wouldn't have whinged the whole way from the corner to the park." Hugh wets his lips. "And if I beat you back to the house?"

* * *

Maybe it should be strange to be this close in public with Hugh. The park isn't empty by any means. There's other morning enthusiasts out -- cyclists, dog walkers and the like. But Mads can't be bothered to care. After all, they'd been rather touchy on the night they first met (Hugh is a rather tactile drunk).

Even if Hugh had been struggling with the jogging, the company is nice. Mads is kind of surprised to find that he hasn't grown bored of Hugh being around. Granted, the kid isn't clingy, but it's still a change from what Mads had been used to for years. Every morning and evening he sees the kid. They eat every breakfast with each other and most dinners too unless one of them is working late. They spend time together after dinner too... Christ, his co-workers have started to call him a homebody. He should probably change that. Go out and have a good time.

Hugh comes closer and Mads has the strange idea that they fit together well. Yeah, he's gotta get out again. He's getting sappy. When Hugh looks up after the challenge is issued, Mads glances down in time to see the grin.

"You're being a 'cheeky bugger', I think they call it," Mads says. And by 'they,' he means Hugh. With his free hand Mads reaches over and flicks Hugh on the nose. "I don't want you overdoing it. You still have class. Can't be all tuckered out."

* * *

Hugh laughs somewhat breathlessly at the flick to his nose, but it does a great job at lightening the mood even more. There's an ease to Hugh's shoulders that hadn't been there before, and while a part of him is curious, he lets Mads' single offer linger like the beacon it is.

"Yes, _Dad_ ," Hugh teases back, good-natured as he gently nudges Mads with an elbow. "Something to work up to, then. I'll beat you back someday." Mads is right about the class thing, after all. Hugh can't be too exhausted. Still... he feels somewhat revitalized just at the idea of showering with Mads, as despite all the time they've spent together as of late, he's never actually seen him fully naked.

Yeah, it's incentive. It's really bloody _good_ incentive.

Hugh reluctantly stands when he feels like he can, and while his legs are a little sore when he starts off again, this time he doesn't lag behind. He paces himself, and he suspects that maybe Mads is making it a little easier on him, but he still throws himself into the jog back home, keeping pace and eventually feeling a little giddy. An exercise high, maybe. He can't be sure. All he knows is that when Mads runs up to his front steps, Hugh is with him, and the sense of accomplishment is kind of nice. Not quite as nice as the prospect of showering with Mads, but nice.

"What's the verdict?" Hugh asks, breathing hard and flushed, but there's still a smile playing at his lips.

* * *

It feels good that they can joke like this. Too often people are serious and need to lighten up. Mads never wants to be that type of person -- serious and with a stick up his ass. Life's just too short to not have fun and be relaxed.

And then Hugh calls him _Dad_ and Mads is completely thrown. He knows it's a joke. The tone and elbow to the side say as much, but still! It has him remembering that he's old enough to be Hugh's dad (creepy and wrong). And then it has him thinking about the whole good boy thing and if it's a Daddy kink or something.

Mads decides to say nothing. He just chuckles. He doesn't want Hugh feeling self-conscious after all. But when Hugh stands, Mads is happy to get back to jogging and _not_ thinking about turning 40 and being old enough to be Hugh's dad. Yes, Mads purposefully takes it a bit easier, he doesn't want to dishearten the kid, right?

Hugh doesn't disappoint him. Hugh gives it his all and keeps up and when they've arrived back at his place, Mads is honestly impressed and pleased.

' _What's the verdict?'_

"Verdict is... Let's get naked and then clean," Mads answers with a grin of his own as he lets them into the house.

They both remove their running shoes and light jackets before heading up to Mads' room. It's more or less as clean as it had been the first time Hugh had seen it. Mads peels off his athletic tee and lets it fall to to the floor with no shame. He's actually down to only his boxers and socks by the time he's starting the shower (he may have his post-exercise stripping down to a science). Hugh is standing in the bathroom door frame still more dressed then he is. Mads works off his socks and then his hands are on the band of his boxers.

"Don't be shy now, babe."

* * *

Hugh tries hard not to beam, but it's a lost cause. Whether it's because of endorphin from the run or Mads' own grin, he doesn't know, but there's an answering grin on Hugh's lips as he lets Mads lead the both of them back into the house. He slips off his trainers (and vows never to wear sweats on a run again, no matter how cold it seems at first) and Hugh turns, letting Mads lead the way up the stairs. He assumes that Mads is going to take a left, to head to the bathroom across from Hugh's room. It's more communal and comfortable, and Hugh's gotten used to it. So when Mads actually turns and walks to _his_ room, the realization that they're going _into_ Mads' room is enough to almost blindside him.

He slows, his eyes wide as he leans against the doorway to catch his breath (climbing the stairs after running had been a _little_ much) but it's a bit of a lost cause, considering that Mads is shamelessly making it difficult to recover. Hugh is quiet as Mads strips off his shirt, and the sight has him swallowing. Yeah, he's seen Mads come back from running before, and he's seen him in his boxers, but having the two images combining is making his pulse pick up speed. Hugh likes how _real_ Mads' body is, how he's sinfully attractive without needing to dehydrate himself into washboard abs. Seeing him like this, with his skin flushed and damp from his run? It is... distracting. Hugh swallows.

He manages to coax himself into the room and closes the door behind him, working off his socks and the damnable sweatpants. Though unlike Mads, Hugh gathers his clothes up (as well as Mads') to take to the hamper he remembers being in Mads' bathroom. He's both distracted by the room because of certain _memories_ it evokes, but it's _Mads_ who's distracting him more. By the time Hugh sees him again, he's down to his boxers, and Hugh's pulse picks up again. He's never seen Mads naked before, and he is... probably a little too enthusiastic about it.

Mads' voice snaps him out of it, and Hugh blinks and then quickly gets his arse into gear. Stepping into the bathroom, Hugh walks to the hamper and sets the clothes inside, then hastily reaches down to his shirt, pulling up up and over his head with a quick laugh.

"I'm not shy. Not-- not right now, anyway. I was... distracted. Obviously."

The implication is clear. Hugh swallows, and when they're both just in their boxers, Hugh hesitates just for a second. Then he carefully works his own down. His ass is still a little bruised from the spanking the other day, but it's not sore, just sensitive. Hugh keeps touching it in secret, contented with the memories (even if the _good boy_ thing is still embarrassing).

* * *

Mads has had showers with others before. While it can be fun, it can also be awkward. Some partners are more self-conscious about the whole standing naked, being wet and washing thing. They tense up and it's not a good time for anyone involved. Sometimes sexy fun things happen while in the shower. Fooling around isn't a requirement just because he's naked with someone else, but it makes clean up easy an hey, he's a fan of the shower rinsing away the evidence.

Of course, the kid is being helpful and picking up his clothes. It's damn cute, even though it's not necessary (Mads isn't a slob, okay? He'd have picked them up later). Mads can't help but be reminded of his little fantasy of Hugh dressed as a maid. Not that he needs that imagery in his head. Not one bit.

Hugh isn't the only one to be doing the ogling thing. When Hugh pulls the shirt over his head, Mads' eyes roam over the lithe chest before him. Hugh claims to be distracted and _not_ shy. Mads' hands haven't actually pulled down his boxers so he can relate, actually. But when Hugh just goes for it Mads follows suit and pulls his down and steps out of them. When they're both naked, Mads gives an appreciative whistle.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Rhetorical question, of course. Mads just grins and gestures to the shower for Hugh to get in first. They don't have all the time in the world to dick around.

At least his shower has two shower heads and enough room for two adults to comfortably maneuver around. (Yes, it had been a selling point for the house. Having a +1 in the shower be a comfortable and convenient experience had been important to Mads.) Of course, this is the second time Hugh has been in the shower, but their first time _together_.

Mads joins Hugh, sliding the glass shower door closed. The water's spray is comfortable and relaxing on his achy muscles. Without thought, he reaches over and cups Hugh's face, pulling him in for a sloppy, lazy kiss.

"Good morning, babe," Mads says, hair now plastered to his face. He has no shame that he's half hard. "I like those marks on your ass. Do you?"

* * *

Oh. _Wow_.

Hugh knows he should probably be a little more self-conscious about getting naked, but it's hard to be focused on himself when _Mads_ finally strips off his boxers. There is... _absolutely_ no way for him to pretend that he's not staring, because he is. In the seconds it takes Mads to get naked, Hugh greedily drinks in what he's not been able to see before. Mads looks _good_ , his chest and shoulders and legs strong, his ass ( _wow_ ) a damn sight, and Hugh likely glances at his cock for a little too long, all things considered. Hell, it's Mads' whistle that startles Hugh out of his own staring, and while he flushes with pleasure at the appreciation, he doesn't really take his eyes off of Mads until he has to.

Hugh's grin is distracted as he walks past Mads and into the shower, but the immediate warmth of the water is definitely a selling point. Hugh shivers at the first pass of warm water over his skin, remembering the only other time he'd been in here. He'd been too hungover to really enjoy it, but now he's definitely on board to soak it all in. Having Mads here helps, and when Mads steps in after him and closes the door, Hugh almost immediately turns to face him.

He catches sight of Mads' cock - half-hard - and his own aches. He's not _just_ half-hard himself, but he's young and Mads is hot. He can't be blamed.

The kiss that Mads pulls him into is lazy and Hugh immediately relaxes into it. One hand lifts to press broadly against Mads' chest, feeling the heat of his skin as he steps in close enough to almost touch him fully. He wants to. But first he kisses back, though his efforts are kind of fucked because he keeps smiling, making the kissing difficult.

"Good morning, yourself," Hugh laughs warmly when the kiss breaks. His hand strokes down the length of Mads' chest, appreciative. It's bold, but Hugh is finding that Mads tends to like it when he takes risks, so at Mads' question, Hugh moves over to take one of Mads' hands and then brings it back around, setting it against his ass.

"And yes. I _really_ like them. But I think I like how much _you_ like them even more."

* * *

Mads knows he's decent looking for his age, but the way Hugh looks at him... Well, it's something special. Mads doesn't exactly know _why_ Hugh is so taken with him. Hugh is young, he could definitely get someone closer to his age, someone more appropriate, someone that Hugh's parents could even meet. Hugh just needs some confidence. The kid is far too quick to discount himself, to call himself awkward and unpopular without trying too hard to put himself out there.

But Mads knows that Hugh just needs to have some successes, gain some experiences. And maybe Mads can help in this. He'll get Hugh set up in school. Maybe get him a smaller apartment closer to school later on. Keep paying his tuition. Mads will fool around with Hugh, he'll give him some good memories. And this... _Him_... He'll eventually just be a crazy but good memory in Hugh's life. ' _Remember that time where I shacked up with that older guy? He paid for my school and everything! We screwed around but then I got wise and moved on.'_ Makes sense to Mads. He'd be a stopgap.

Mads is happy that Hugh reaches out to touch him, that he kisses back (even though Mads can feel the adorable smile on Hugh's face as they kiss and it's far too fucking charming). When Hugh's hand slides down his chest, Mads is all smiles. That smile only grows wider, teeth flashing as Hugh goes a step further and takes one of his hands and places it against Hugh's ass.

"Do you now?" Mads asks, happy that Hugh apparently values his opinion on the matter so much. "I think it's important that we _both_ like them," Mads goes on to say, palm rubbing appreciatively over the slightly-bruised skin.

"We can't be late," Mads says, but he leans in to press himself against Hugh's wet skin and kiss him again. He's quite obvious as he pushes his dick against Hugh's own and grips Hugh's ass.

* * *

_"Do you now?"_

"Oh, believe me, we _both_ do," Hugh responds instantly, and while his smile doesn't fade, there is a flicker to it as Mads' hand gently rubs against Hugh's ass. It's immediately a reminder of that night, of being bent over the couch and spanked, of having Mads' cock against his ass, of having Mads come all over his skin. Yeah, it had been a little hard to clean up after, and Hugh'd been sore in the shower, but he'd gotten himself off again because the thought of what had happened had been too hot.

Now, feeling the way Mads touches his ass, feeling the slow rub against skin that's still kind of tender, Hugh bites softly at his lower lip as his eyes close. It's just for a second, but the sensation is _good_. It makes him want to push more, but Mads is unfortunately right. They can't be late; they don't have time to do a whole lot. Hugh's just wrapping his head around that, just gearing himself up to get himself off later when Mads is suddenly there again, kissing him. Hugh opens up his eyes in quick surprise and then hums a soft sound of contentment that fades into a startled moan when Mads presses in close.

Hugh breaks the kiss so he can look down, needing to _see_ the proof, and the sight of their cocks pressed together makes Hugh groan.

" _Fuck_ , Mads," he breathes, and leans in to steal another kiss. He rocks his hips forward, then back, pressing against Mads' prick and then back into the squeeze of his hands. Then a thought hits him and Hugh breaks the kiss just enough to look up at him.

"Can I touch you?" He asks, a little breathless, and the high spots of color on his cheeks are no longer _just_ from exercise. "I mean... s'only fair, right? You're touching me. Fair trade. Don't stop," he adds, hastily, because he doesn't want Mads to interpret that incorrectly. "I like you touching me."

* * *

Mads really doesn't want to be late. He tries hard to not be late -- at least not for work. Even though he may not wear a tie, he's a professional after all. But ever since the addition of a certain Hugh Dancy in his life, Mads also tries to be a decent role model. However, a decent role model wouldn't probably do the hanky-panky in the shower and risk being late.

...But they're usually not late unless traffic is a bitch. But if they start taking showers together in the morning, that may be more difficult than Mads would like. Maybe he'll have to shift his morning exercise up some. That could do it. Because Mads _does_ like doing this. A lot, in fact. And maybe he's thinking about how to be responsible and indulgent at the same time while kissing Hugh, but it gets harder to think when Hugh pulls away to look down between them and curse. And Hugh is eager, surging for another kiss and rocking his hips forward as their dicks rub against each other.

The question catches him off guard in the best way possible. And then Hugh goes on - being a cheeky bugger again - and Mads can't help but chuckle. It's true, though. He _is_ touching Hugh's ass. The prospect of Hugh touching and jerking him off… Well, Mads would be an idiot to turn that down and he does want Hugh showing more initiative and having positive sexual experiences to build confidence with...

"You can," Mads replies smoothly. A moment later he drops some of the bravado and he grins, shaking his head a little. "Of course I want you to touch me, babe." Better to be natural. His nails scratch along Hugh's ass again. "Only if you're sure, of course. And gotta be quick."

* * *

It's a bold question but Mads has been doing what he can to encourage Hugh to feel more confident in their interactions. They definitely need to get going in time; while they haven't been late yet, there's nothing that says they won't be if they dawdle too long. Hugh can definitely see himself wasting a _lot_ of time in the shower with Mads if this becomes a regular thing, but he's thankfully also mostly responsible. He doesn't want to get penalized in class. He's a _good_ student. Even with this whole thing with Mads, Hugh has been making it to class on time and getting his work done. So when Mads says _yes_ , but then tells him to be quick, Hugh _is_ a little disappointed, but it fades. He's responsible. And despite how badly he wants to take his time and explore, they really do have to hurry.

It doesn't stop the flush on Hugh's skin, nor the desire in his eyes as he looks down again, though. The water cascading over them both is soothing, but it runs down the muscles on Mads' body almost obscenely, and Hugh is _very_ appreciative. He wets his lips quickly, arousal burning hotter inside, and his breath hitches when Mads' nails drag over his skin, but it's a pleasant distraction. Hugh glances up at Mads once to make sure this is okay, then nods, dazed, as he finally reaches a hand in between them.

"Of _course_ I want to touch you," Hugh breathes, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of Mads' lips, then another a little lower, just barely under his chin. "I wish I could take my time with it. But... you're right. We _are_ on a time limit. Later?"

He darts Mads a hopeful look before he glances down between them again, biting his lower lip as he reaches down enough to gently brush his fingers over the head of Mads' cock. It's hot, and so familiar-yet-different that the sight and feel of it go right to Hugh's cock. He shivers, feeling blindsided by the knowledge that he's _touching Mads' cock_ , and then Hugh tentatively wraps his fingers around it, observing the slow, steady slide of foreskin as he curiously works at it. He feels almost dizzy with arousal, _finally_ able to touch Mads the way he's ached to, and Hugh feels the throb of arousal all the way through his own dick.

" _Fuck_ ," he breathes, drawing the foreskin down to touch the pad of his thumb to Mads' slit carefully. "Just um... if it's too much, tell me? Teach me how to touch you."

* * *

Hugh looks a little disappointed by the comment to be quick. Of course, Mads would prefer them to _not_ rush, for Hugh to be able to go at his own pace, to enjoy and learn as much as he could, but... Responsibility. Work. School. Being adults. Annoying, but it's a part of life and Mads needs to make damn certain that he doesn't mess up Hugh's life.

Hugh looks both stunned and appreciative and Mads can't help but be grinning like a madman as he thinks Hugh is checking him out. More than ever is Mads glad he's taking care of himself and hasn't let himself go. After a quick nod, and a hopeful comment that they can do this again later and take their time, Hugh's hand reaches down.

"Of _course_ we can do this again later, shit," Mads curses, both fond and amused. When fingers softly graze the head of his cock, Mads breathes deep and watches Hugh as he familiarizes himself. A hand is carefully wrapped around it and his foreskin worked back and this shouldn't be so hot, but it is.

_'Teach me how to touch you.'_

"No, Hugh," Mads disagrees warmly as his hands caress over Hugh's ass. "You can learn and play, no pressure. It's you, it will feel good. Really good. It already does." Just the few touches have felt amazing. Mads strokes his palms over the swell of Hugh's ass to his lower back and then up higher. He's hungry to touch as much as he can.

* * *

The knowledge that they can do this later is reassuring, and it makes the fact that they have to be a little quicker here feel less disappointing. This isn't the only time he's going to touch Mads' cock. This isn't the only time he gets to learn what gets him off, what he likes, how much pressure to use, whether or not he likes his foreskin being played with, and so many other factors. Hugh's breathing is a little quicker as his fingers work tentatively over Mads' cock, feeling the silkiness of his skin and the heat and weight of him. Hugh swallows, and the desire to be reckless and just drop to his knees _is_ there, but he doesn't. Time limit, and all.

Mads' touch to his ass draws a soft breath from Hugh's lips and he shivers, encouraging the gentle pass of Mads' hands over his skin. It feels _good_ to be touched, and despite the rush, Mads doesn't make him _feel_ rushed. Instead, every time Hugh darts a look at Mads, he looks as turned on and eager as Hugh feels. It's a good feeling to see his own desire reflected; it leaves him feeling almost giddy.

"I like touching you," Hugh murmurs, then leans in a little closer to press a kiss to Mads' throat, then another down lower, closer to his clavicle. Once there, Hugh rests his forehead against Mads' shoulder and looks down between them, watching as he touches Mads' cock. This close, he can hear when Mads' breath hitches, and Hugh focuses on repeating anything that draws any kind of reaction from him. He doesn't have time to learn and explore the way he wants to, but later... he can do it later. For now, he aches at the feeling of Mads' cock in his hand, and as Hugh wraps his hand around him properly and begins to stroke - varying quick and slow, the way he tends to touch himself - he shivers and presses his lips to Mads' skin.

"You feel _really_ bloody good."

* * *

Mads doesn't know why Hugh is so into him. Hugh is like a kid at Christmas with Mads' dick being the best present ever, but Mads is not about to question a good thing. He tells himself that this will help Hugh. That _he_ can help Hugh. He's helped him with tuition, room and board, some decent meals and now sexual confidence? Good God it sounds bad in his head like that, but Mads has tried to give Hugh an out and Hugh may be young (not even twenty-one, Christ) but he's still an adult and Mads wants to respect that.

And Hugh seems very interested in this, breathing quick as his fingers trace over Mads' dick, familiarizing himself with it. Mads' lips twitch into a smile as Hugh claims to _like_ _touching_ _him_. Mads happens to think the same thing. He's about to say as much when Hugh leans in and kisses his throat and collar bone. Instead, Mads just makes a pleased, encouraging sound as Hugh's hand finally wraps around his cock and moves in earnest.

"That's good, babe," Mads says a bit gruffly. His hand relocates from Hugh's back to Hugh's own cock. Mads' grip is firm and he strokes quickly with the intention of Hugh getting off as well. He buries his other hand into Hugh's wet hair, tilting his head up into a kiss as his strokes speed up.

"Want you to make a mess," Mads murmurs after pulling away. He feels close, breathing harsher and muscles straining in pleasure. He's pretty sure seeing Hugh lose it would push him over.

* * *

Hugh wants to explore properly when they have the time. Maybe he shouldn't be quite so enthusiastic to have his hand on another bloke's prick, but he's been wanting to do this for over a month now, and the reality - while a little rushed - is already everything he'd hoped it would be. Hugh swallows as he glances down between them, watching Mads' foreskin roll over the head of his cock and then slide down, erotic to so much as _look_ at, much less feel all hot in his hand. He can feel his own cock aching, and the desire to shift enough so that he can grind up against Mads' hip is pressing. But Hugh knows what'll happen if he touches himself, or starts trying to get off; he feels close just from bloody _touching_ Mads. His pulse is quick, his skin flushed, and his cock aches. A lot of Hugh's arousal is and has always been mental, and he is _quite_ taken by this moment.

So when Mads' hand drops down from Hugh's back and suddenly moves to instead wrap around his cock, Hugh's resulting gasp is so sharp that he almost chokes. His hips thrust once, instinctual, before he manages to rein himself in. Before he can protest (not that he wants to, _Christ_ ) Mads is gripping his hair and pulling his head back, and Hugh groans, tight and sharp as Mads both kisses him and speeds his strokes up at the same time.

It's sudden and dizzying, and Hugh honestly does try to focus, to mind the weight of Mads' dick in his palm, to struggle against the pleasure building within, but he can't. He does manage to kiss back, but it's sloppy and breathless, his hips rocking into Mads' almost punishing pace. To his credit, he keeps stroking Mads' cock, but when Mads pulls back from the kiss and tells him to _make a mess_ , Hugh's eyes widen in a stunned pleasure.

" _Mads_ , Mads, _fuck_ ," Hugh breathes, feeling the sudden rush of pleasure grow. Knowing that Mads wants to see it, to see him come... Hugh is helpless to resist.

His hips jerk into Mads' strokes, losing whatever rhythm he'd managed, and while he makes sure his eyes don't close (because he wants to _see_ Mads like this) they do close half-way as pleasure rises sharply within him. He whines, high and sharp and desperate, and he comes before he's made the decision to do so, pleasure pulsing through him as he comes thick and hot over Mads' jerking fist, shuddering helplessly.

* * *

Hugh is apparently quite sensitive and Mads loves it. The kid gasps quite loudly when he touches Hugh's dick. And Mads isn't turned off by Hugh's reaction to thrust and encourage the touch. He likes the enthusiasm, he's always enjoyed partners who are vested in their own pleasure anyway.

Hugh's own strokes may be somewhat clumsy and the kiss sloppy, but Mads has no complaints. Just seeing Hugh enjoying himself gets him closer, gets him harder. And by now he knows what will get Hugh off, so there is no surprise when Mads' words result in Hugh cursing and then honest-to-God _whining_ as he comes.

What it is is hot. Really, really hot. Mads strokes him through it, drinking up Hugh's rather expressive orgasm.

"There's my good, messy boy," Mads praises lowly. With Hugh's come still on his hand, he lets go of Hugh's cock to wrap around Hugh's hand that is still on his dick. He tightens his hand over Hugh's and it only takes a few hard strokes for orgasm to hit Mads too. With a rasped groan, he shoots his load over Hugh's abdomen, panting as he squeezes himself before letting go to smile at Hugh.

"Morning," Mads says.

* * *

Mads' words break through the haze of pleasure in Hugh's mind and strike even harder, making him feel almost dizzy as he moans. He feels the answering pulse of pleasure inside and Hugh watches Mads, stunned by pleasure, as Mads strokes him through the rest of his orgasm and then removes his hand. Hugh watches, breathless, as Mads' hand moves over top of his own and Hugh feels the slickness of his own come. Mads tightens his hold, and even breathless and panting with pleasure, Hugh understands.

He lets Mads guide him, watching wide-eyed with a different sort of need as Mads shows him what he likes. Hugh tightens his hold when Mads prompts it, and when the first spurt of come shoots over Hugh's abdomen, he feels weak in the knees with a secondary sort of arousal. Mads' groan threatens to go right to his cock, and Hugh watches, rapt, looking between Mads' cock and his face as he comes.

Mads' hand falls away, and Hugh glances down at the come on his skin, sadly already being washed away by the shower. He shivers, breathing rougher, and when he looks up to see Mads smiling, it only takes a second for Hugh to grin back at him. It's quick and breathless, maybe a little wide, but there's _joy_ in it as he lets out a breathless laugh and steps in closer.

"Morning to you, too," Hugh answers, and then leans up to kiss him again, properly. "That is... something we should do again," he adds, in a lower murmur against Mads' lips. "I think I like you, uh... _marking_ me."

* * *

Mads knows some people can be picky about the whole touching anyone's come-thing because it's gross (their own included), but as he grabs at Hugh's hand with his own come-streaked one, he knows the shower will take care of it soon enough. He watches Hugh watch and that may be what actually pushes Mads over the edge.

It's a great orgasm, far better than touching himself, of course. Mads sees Hugh look between his face and his dick. It's kind of cute, actually. Mads gets the feeling that, if Hugh could, he'd want to be able to see both -- to see him all (which is oddly both sweet and arousing).

They grin at each other like idiots and Mads is genuinely happy. This is definitely a great start to the day. A great reward from the drudgery of jogging. Mads happily lets his hands come to Hugh's hips as the kid steps in close, says good morning, and then kisses him. See? Mads is helping already, look how confident Hugh is. (That's what he's telling himself anyway.)

_'I think I like you, uh... **marking** me.'_

Mads' eyebrows climb higher on his forehead. A half-amused, half-incredulous laugh then follows. "You dirty boy, you're going to be the death of me," Mads jokes (not that he minds). Being young is all about exploring, right? Pushing the boundaries.

Thankfully the rest of their shower contains nonsexual shower activities. Mads really doesn't want to be late. Being an adult. Being responsible. Being on time. That shit is important.

When they're in the car, the radio turned down low because of annoying advertisements, Mads reaches a hand over and brushes it through Hugh's damp hair.

"You're a cute kid, you shouldn't discredit yourself so much," he says.

* * *

Hugh has never had this before, this level of casual intimacy. He's not even sure that that's what to even call it, because this isn't romantic. It's friendly. It's sexual. It's _comfortable_. And yes, it is intimate despite everything else. He honestly does like it; it feels good, feels like something that he could get used to. So yeah, maybe there's a slightly more obvious spring in his step after he and Mads do get out of the shower, and maybe he jokes a little more than he would with the peers he has at university. Casual intimacy and being comfortable seems to equate to some measure of confidence. _Stability_ , Hugh thinks, is what some would call it.

In the end, they make it to the car on time, though with only a minute or two to spare. Hugh settles, still feeling a little relaxed and loose from orgasm and definitely still feeling giddy that he'd finally _seen_ Mads come, had been responsible for it. He can already tell that the memory of it alone is going to be really bloody tempting all day. But it's more than that. Mads jokes, he laughs, he speaks his mind, and as they drive on the way in, Hugh quietly reflects on how good it feels to be able to share space with someone without _needing_ to fill it with mindless chatter.

The advertisements are obnoxious when they come on, though, and Hugh doesn't blame Mads for turning the radio down. Still, while he's expecting Mads to comment, he's not expecting him to say what he does.

Hugh blinks and looks over at him, half-incredulous, half-flattered. "Uh... thank you. It's not really a conscious thing. I'd joke about unfaltering British modesty, but I guess we both know that'd be shite. To be fair, it's happening less often."

* * *

All in all, having a roommate with benefits is going well for Mads. Better than expected, actually. A lot better. There hasn't been any real conflict between them. Hugh seems to be adjusting to it well. Not just to him and their arrangement, but Hugh is also doing well in school and his part-time job. There is an easy going companionship he feels with Hugh. There may exist a staggering age gap between them, they may be in different stages of their lives, but they get along well. It's been sort of nice to hear Hugh go off about certain professors or classes he doesn't care for. And of course the sexual intimacy has been great. Zero complaints from Mads on this front. Hugh is eager and expressive which are qualities Mads truly enjoys in a partner. While Mads knows that there are certain things they won't be doing, he's looking forward to introducing Hugh to many more activities...

While they don't _need_ to speak, Mads feels like it's something Hugh should know. He knows it can be difficult for younger people to feel confident and it's something he wants to try and work on with Hugh. He's already helped with tuition and housing, but why shouldn't Mads help more if he can? The look Hugh gives him is a mixture of surprised but appreciative. Mads thinks so anyway.

"I don't think it's a conscious thing," Mads replies easily. "But I'm glad it's happening less. You'll grow up some more, get some accomplishments and experience under your belt, and find someone really great. You know, if that's what you want."

After all... Mads is aware that _he_ hadn't done that. While he is confident and self-assured (but not overly so like an asshole), he forwent the whole find a partner thing...

* * *

The thing with Mads is that he _is_ older than Hugh. Sometimes they mesh really well together. Most of the time they do. Hugh doesn't really get on with his peers, but sitting back and watching the Food Network with Mads, the both of them laughing at the over-dramatic narration as well as quietly salivating over the food has become common. Hugh forgets sometimes that there _is_ such an age difference between them. Sure, Mads is visibly older, but he doesn't really feel it often. But like this, with Mads gently mussing his hair and talking about Hugh _growing up_ some, about experiences that he's apparently had that Hugh hasn't, Hugh feels the difference.

He's not sure if he likes it. Mads doesn't often treat him like a kid (except for when he's running on a day without sleep and getting grumpy and manic at two in the morning) but normally Hugh's _done_ something to deserve it. He can tell by Mads' tone that that's not the case here, so he tries not to feel a little rebellious over it. Hugh knows that while he might want to insist that he's not a kid... Mads probably does have experiences that he hasn't had. He _does_ know more. Hugh's not about to spit in the face of experience because of his pride.

"Well... I'm working, going to school, finally in a stable position thanks to you... I think I'm getting a fair bit of experience now," Hugh says, attempting to skirt around any potential whinging that might be attempting to slip through. "I like where I'm at now. I don't know about other people, but... _you're_ great, and I still can't thank you enough for everything you've done. From letting me stay here and paying off my tuition, to keeping me relatively sane. And, you know," he adds, with a quick flash of a grin. "The, uh... the sex is pretty great too."

* * *

Okay, maybe he's coming across a bit like a parent here. Mads is aware that his advice is unsolicited, Hugh hadn't asked him for it. He's the one that's decided to bring this up (and Mads has the feeling that it may be more for his benefit than Hugh's).

Thankfully, Hugh doesn't seem to get offended by what he's saying. Mads is sure if their positions had been reversed, _he_ would have been pissed off, but he'd been a stupid-fuck, far too sure of himself when he shouldn't have been. (He'd been consequently knocked on his ass more than a few times which had helped smarten Mads up some.)

Hearing Hugh list everything he's doing, to state that he _likes_ where he's at... It makes Mads feel really good, in fact. Hugh has a lot to be proud over. The kid is managing school and work and still hanging around with him. He's away from home with very little support, too.

But then the comment about the _sex_ being great comes and Mads can't help but laugh as the light turns green and he accelerates. "You're priceless" he grins, genuine and honestly _happy._ (Mads had thought himself happy before...)

He doesn't give anymore advice on the trip to school, but Mads finds himself beyond content and not in a bad mood at all.


	7. Daddy will take care of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She liked you, you know," Mads says softly, with no malice. "I could tell by the way she was hanging off of you," he adds, leaning in to talk into Hugh's ear. "Not interested or did you not notice?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE LIVE! :O But srsly, who am I kidding, 3+ months is hardly the longest time between updates to our stories. *throws shade at self* Anywho, enjoy! ♥
> 
> It's also Dapperscript's birthday tomorrow (8/25) so HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE MOST PATIENT WRITING PARTNER A GIRL COULD HOPE FOR. I often get discouraged writing Mads bc I'm used to thriving off angst and fucked up Hannigram'ness, but she's always been so lovely and encouraging and this story wouldn't exist and continue to get updates if she wasn't amazing A++++++ kiss kiss
> 
> If you're interested, this is what we had in mind for how the dildo looks like ([click](https://www.lovehoney.ca/product.cfm?p=35750))
> 
> Mads written by Merry ([tumblr](http://merrythought.tumblr.com)) | Hugh written by Dapperscript ([tumblr](http://reallymisscoffee.tumblr.com/))

The day goes by and more than a few times Mads finds himself smiling because of what Hugh had said -- that the sex had been great (and supposedly him too)... Now, of course, he wants to somehow make it better than great. Not that they've done a lot... Mads just wonders what he could do to up the ante, so to speak. Maybe he should give Hugh some homework of his own, get him to order what he'd like to try the most. That could be a place to start.

It's a few days later and Mads is relaxing on the sofa. He's still got his work clothes on and he's feeling rather unmotivated in the cooking department. Hugh is working late at the library and Mads has been wrestling with a certain idea.

You see, he kind of wants to go visit Hugh and check out his place of work. Hugh's shift ends at 10, if he leaves now, he should get there by 9:30... But is it creepy to go? Mads isn't sure it's entirely appropriate either. He could offer to give Hugh a ride home... but what if Hugh had plans _after_? It could be presumptuous.

"Fuck it," Mads says under his breath as he gets up, flicking the TV off and stalking to the entryway. He pulls on athletic running shoes, not caring if they clash with his grey dress pants and plum wool sweater. He makes a point not to speed and when he arrives he parks in the visitor parking lot. While it's not especially wintery out, it's still a little cool, but Mads doesn't care. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his pants, the breeze mussing his hair a little, but he's not about to stop in the restroom and fix himself.

The library isn't too far from the entryway and Mads is walking steadily, eager to check out Hugh's place of work. When he's in the library, Mads scans the immediate vicinity and there's no Hugh... So he goes on an adventure and walks around, familiarizing himself with the space. It's a good ten minutes that Mads is wandering around and trying to not feel like some weirdo when he _finally_ spots Hugh.

And it's not Hugh alone, no, it's Hugh getting obviously talked up by a pretty young thing. Mads stop in his tracks, eyebrows drawing in at the sight.

* * *

Hugh is very aware of his dumb grin for most of the day. He knows it's probably damning; a few students give him weird looks, a few more give him knowing looks that quite plainly say _congrats on getting laid_. Hugh should care, but he doesn't. He just feels _good_.

Yeah, the conversation in the car that morning had been a little out of left field, and yes, he'd skirted the line between being offended and not, but he'd gotten over it quickly enough. Mads had only been trying to help, as he always seems to be, and Hugh is actually glad that they can _have_ those conversations now. They haven't really known each other for that long, but Hugh already knows this is the best thing to have happened to him. Well, barring getting accepted into university, of course, but ultimately Mads has been a bloody godsend.

His contentment lasts for more than just that day. A few days later, he's still walking on air. Still, despite his contentment, Hugh doesn't drift through his classes. He focuses and he participates in the discussion when he can. It's a regular day in class except that Hugh knows he's supposed to work pretty late in the library. It's kind of disappointing because it means he's going to miss dinner and Mads getting back home, but Hugh had been adamant about making _some_ money on his own, which Mads had encouraged.

When he's through with his classes, Hugh immediately goes to the library and signs in for his shift. It's a long one; he'll be there until ten. A part of him really is disappointed but the rest of him just accepts it and moves on. It isn't long before Hugh's got a few students clamoring for assistance, and he's always preferred being busy to being idle. With a stubborn sort of determination, Hugh gathers himself up and then gets to work.

It's a bloody whirlwind in the end, because as more and more students reach midterms and the ends of their first assignments, they flock to the library. Hugh hardly has a free moment as the day goes on. He calms a few mini-panic attacks from multiple students who are stressing about midterms, and he gives the lecture on references and how to find them so many times that by the time the sky goes dark outside, his voice feels a little hoarse.

He's nursing a much-needed cup of lemon tea when Alice - a regular at the library - comes to find him in the back. In truth, she almost scares him silly by tapping on his shoulder, but he doesn't spill his drink and that's what matters. Heart pounding, knees a little weak, Hugh laughs awkwardly and apologetically.

"Sorry. Not as alert as I should have been, I suppose. What can I help you with?"

Alice - a blonde about Hugh's age - grins at him, clearly amused. "Wondering if you've got any information on a source for my Abnormal Psych paper. I, uh... I know it's late," she adds, managing to look sheepish. "First opportunity I had to come here."

"It's fine," Hugh dismisses. And, after a minute longer, he's ascertained the subject matter on her paper. Gesturing Alice to follow him, he walks to the computers and quickly does a search on some of her research material. Secretly he wonders how in the _world_ she's written papers in the past if she can't do a simple search, but he's fairly sure that's just the fatigue talking.

"Here," Hugh murmurs, jotting down a few reference numbers on a piece of cardstock in front of him. "These might be up your alley."

"Thanks, Hugh," Alice sends him a smile, and her fingers brush his as she takes the card from him. Before he can wander away, she hastily adds, "Oh, uh... could you... maybe help me? Battery running a little low after a long day. Don't want to mess up the filing system."

Hugh _is_ slightly incredulous, but... whatever. He's heard worse. So he does comply, taking Alice around to find a few of the papers she'll likely need.

He glances at his watch a few minutes later, noting how _close_ it is to closing, but he just continues to gather a few more papers up and gestures to them, explaining proper bloody _citations_ of all things. Alice's hand is on his arm (Americans and their bloody personal space...) and he has to wonder just how she's gotten this far in university.

* * *

Shit. Mads shouldn't be watching. He shouldn't be eavesdropping either. This close, he can hear the girl's peppy voice inquire about help. Mads can tell by her body language and posture that she's obviously interested in Hugh. She's leaning over him, purposely bending over in such a way that her cleavage is visible. There are also the big flashy smiles and the self-deprecating giggles. The girl is pretty, too. Mads isn't blind.

He'd expected to come upon Hugh and possibly surprise him, but Mads should speak up, announce himself. That would be the appropriate action to take. Mads has no good reason to be standing near the edge of a bookshelf and watching like a creep...

But he does watch. And he does listen. And Hugh seems oblivious to her rather obvious intentions. It would maybe be cute if Mads didn't feel... Didn't feel what? He doesn't know. But he follows the pair as Hugh leads her to a computer and goes about helping her find some resources or whatnot.

This is good. He'd wanted Hugh to gain confidence and find someone more age appropriate, maybe this apparently needy female is a good candidate. When Mads sees her reach out for Hugh's arm, however, he steps out and briskly walks over to the pair.

"Hey!" Mads calls out. He puts on his best charming grin for the pair and he purposely ignores the girl's slight look of dismay at being interrupted. A little competition is good. She'll be stronger for it. "Was hoping to ask you a question before closing, you busy? It's just over... here."

Mads points to a rather deserted part of the library and heads that way, assuming Hugh will follow him.

* * *

Hugh is fairly certain that someone should speak to Alice about tutoring. It would be kinder considering how she seems to have forgotten the rules of citation. Hugh is bemused, maybe a little irritated (because this shite isn't his job and it's close to closing) but he still does what he can to help. Alice isn't cruel or demanding, just apparently has a little difficulty learning and applying herself. She's sweet enough, Hugh thinks, but he still doesn't really appreciate her touching him. His thoughts aren't on her, but rather on Mads, on wondering if they'll have time to cook anything or watch some telly before they have to go to bed. He hopes so; Hugh doesn't really enjoy the nights where he has to work late, and he's already missing Mads' dry wit and--

The familiar voice that sounds startles him out of his musings and while Alice jumps, Hugh perks up immediately. He turns around, eyes wider and expectant, and when he catches sight of Mads (in a plum sweater and bloody _neon green_ trainers, of all things) Hugh's expression begins to break out into a wide, thrilled grin.

Mads has never come to see him at work before and it's a pleasant surprise. But when Mads starts to talk, when he doesn't address Hugh with any open familiarity, but instead like someone who needs help in the library, Hugh's smile takes a confused edge. Beside him, Alice looks slightly pinched and unhappy, which is odd.

Hugh just looks at her, then decides there's no harm in playing along. He dismisses himself with an apologetic smile, because really, she has enough information now. Then he heads off in Mads' direction.

Hugh only looks back over his shoulder once when he's almost caught up to Mads, and he's a little surprised to see that Alice isn't there anymore. Maybe she'd moved. It only throws him for a moment. Then he's turning back to Mads, jogging the last few feet over to him, and Hugh's grin is wide once again.

"Mads," Hugh says, and his voice is so light that it's almost a laugh. "It's good to see you! I wasn't expecting you here. Did I miss a text or something?"

* * *

Maybe he's being an asshole here, pulling Hugh away from an interested girl, but if it's meant to be, surely the two of them will gravitate back to each other. The girl will come find Hugh again and pretend to be hapless and Hugh will come to her rescue and help. It's almost sort of sweet. Like a movie. Unlike _them,_ it would make sense...

When he speaks up, Hugh turns around quickly with a wide smile on his face. And then that smile falters a little as Mads decides to pretend that he needs help. A beat later Hugh is playing along and apologizing (of course) and walking after him. Mads leads them to an abandoned row of books. The shelves are high enough to obscure them. Mads is grinning in return, happy to see how pleasantly surprised Hugh seems to be. Mads can hear it in Hugh's tone, see it in his face. It's endearing in only a way that Hugh Dancy can effortlessly pull off.

And Mads wastes no time in bringing his hands up to Hugh's shoulders to maneuver Hugh against a shelf He steps in close, not close enough to touch Hugh with his body, but close enough that Hugh's boxed in.

"Missed you, was bored, decided to come check out where you work and pick you up," Mads murmurs. And God, he knows he shouldn't be leaning in to brush his mouth against Hugh's like this, but he does.

It's brief at least.

"Is it okay that I'm here?"

* * *

There isn't a single part of Hugh that isn't glad to see Mads here. Maybe it might cross a line for someone else, but given that Hugh has been missing his company all evening, this is a pleasant surprise. It's a surprise that grows all the more when Mads gently presses him back. Thrown, but not against it, Hugh glances back to check that he's not about to knock anything off of the shelf behind him, and he lets Mads press him back against the bookshelves. It's not firm, not _too_ damning were someone to happen by, but it definitely gets Hugh's attention in a hurry. His grin - while still wide - takes on a slightly more expectant shade (Pavlovian, his Psych prof would probably say) and so when Mads does lean in and kisses him, Hugh returns it without question.

In the back of his mind, he's aware that _this_ is probably not the best idea, but his shift is over in five minutes or so, and he'd worked through his break. He can justify it. He isn't sure if this is the way friends with benefits normally act (on account of never being in this position before) but it's comfortable, Mads is _definitely_ a friend by now, and Hugh likes it. What's the harm? Hell, it's only Mads' question that even makes Hugh aware that this might not be all right with some people.

"Of course! I'm off in five as is, but I got most of the programs shut down before Alice came by." Hugh wets his lips and reaches out, setting one of his hands on the rather plush sweater Mads is wearing. He splays his hand over Mads' chest, smiling. "You look good. Trainers included, in some mental way. I'm actually really glad you stopped by, and not just because I won't have to take the transit home," he teases. "I missed you, too. It was boring tonight. Kept on wondering what you were up to."

* * *

Mads isn't a complete jerk. He wouldn't have pulled Hugh away from someone _legitimately_ needing help. He wouldn't have shown up in the middle of Hugh's shift either. It's not as if he _wants_ to get Hugh in trouble (he doesn't). Mads figures near the end of Hugh's shift is the best possible time and Hugh seems pleasantly surprised rather than awkwardly surprised, so, that's something. Mads thinks it's okay - that it's good - but he still asks.

There is something to be said about how ridiculously hot is it to be kissing and near-pinning Hugh to a shelf in the library, too. So far, there really hasn't been any PDA. Other than Hugh leaning on him on the bench, anything remotely physical has been in the car or house. Yeah, this isn't exactly public, Mads had specifically chosen an uninhabited area, but there is the possibility of being seen. It's Mads at least toeing the line.

Of course when Hugh answers, the kid practically rambles. It's nice, though. Cute. Hugh has a tendency to be wordy anyway, but if he's excited or emotional in some way, it only gets worse. Hugh compliments him on looking good (even with the bright runners, apparently). Mads glances down between them. He supposes that with the grey dress pants and a wine colored sweater that they do stand out.

_'I missed you, too. It was boring tonight. Kept on wondering what you were up to.'_

Shit. Mads had said that, hadn't he... That he missed Hugh. Well he must have, he's here now and apparently it's mutual.

"She liked you, you know," Mads says softly, with no malice. "I could tell by the way she was hanging off of you," he adds, leaning in to talk into Hugh's ear. "Not interested or did you not notice?'

* * *

Despite Hugh's relief and excitement at seeing Mads here, particularly after a long day, he hasn't missed that this _is_ kind of hot. Mads might not be shoving him bodily against the bookshelf (though wouldn't _that_ be interesting...) but he is pinning him there, which is equally as hot. A part of Hugh does want to look closer at this, this newfound thrill is kind of interesting, but he's still relatively aware of his surroundings. Alice is probably gone, but he hadn't heard the doors close, so there's still the possibility that she's wandering around. Hugh doesn't really _want_ her to see (scratch that, he _really_ doesn't want her to) but the threat of it is bloody hot.

Hugh's pretty sure he's just interested in any time Mads happens to be physical with him outside of the house. It's not worth being caught, though. Sadly. Hugh still wets his lips though, and he can't help the little glance he darts towards Mads' lips.

But before he can think about maybe grabbing Mads down into another kiss, Mads up and mentions Alice and Hugh blinks. At first he's a little startled, and then his brow pinches, incredulous.

"What?" He asks, sounding half-amused, half-disbelieving. The feeling of Mads leaning in closer, close enough to murmur hotly in Hugh's ear calms both impulses. Instead Hugh shivers, his next breath a little sharper than he'd intended to make it. Fuck, he likes it when Mads does that. Hugh swallows.

"Uhm... I didn't notice," he admits, though he does sound distracted. Hugh makes himself think back to the last few minutes with Alice. Now that it's been pointed out to him...

"Shite. She _did_ , didn't she? Christ, I hope I wasn't an arse. I mean... I _didn't_ notice, but I'm _also_ not interested, so that... I guess being bloody oblivious let her down easy. I hope."

Hugh glances sidelong at Mads, his fingers curling in his sweater just a little. "I feel a bit like an arse. I just thought she was... I don't know. Drunk, slow, having a bad day... something like that."

* * *

While not much shorter than Mads is, Hugh is smaller. Smaller frame, more of a lithe build too. Hugh's body is also growing more and more familiar to Mads every day. Every time they kiss or touch, every time Mads pulls Hugh into his lap, Hugh becomes more known to him, their comfort level growing. Mads is used to the smell of Hugh, it's the scent of his laundry detergent on Hugh's clothes, after all. Hugh wears deodorant, but only cologne when he's doing something important like giving a presentation or going to work. And then there is the slight undercurrent of sweat from Hugh's long days which is not bad either.

Like Mads had expected, Hugh seems completely oblivious to the girl's interest. Mads doesn't even need to see Hugh's expression, he knows the kid is honestly dumbfounded and looking/being (adorably) clueless about it. Mads only chuckles good-naturedly. Now that Hugh is with him and apparently not interested, he's more relaxed.

"I'm sure you weren't an arse," Mads answers easily. "You don't have it in you." He's certain of this. Mads is going to probably regret this, but he can't help but move closer to Hugh and let his nose caress up Hugh's ear. Hugh is far too cute and their position is fucking hot.

"She was pretty, though. Not drunk or slow, just very interested in _you..._ You've never even been inside of anyone, huh?" Mads' voice is practically a purr. He runs his hands down Hugh's forearms, one hand then coming to the hand grasping onto his sweater. Mads moves Hugh's hand down his stomach, over his belt until it's resting against the thick outline of his half-hard dick.

"Legs spread open for your cock, a hot welcoming hole to get lost in... But I wonder if you would rather have someone inside of _you_."

* * *

Trust Hugh to completely miss the obvious. When it comes to book learning or playing a _part_ , he's good at subtext and comprehension, but throw him in with someone apparently flirting with him and, well... there you have it. He feels a little like an idiot, but Mads' soft chuckle does make him feel less ridiculous. His obvious amusement is enough to make Hugh smile, even if it is slightly self-deprecating.

If he sees Alice again, he might apologize, or at least make his lack of intention known, but it's not much of a priority. _Mads_ is a priority. As, concerned as he is over appearing to be insensitive, Mads' clear interest is distracting. Hugh feels him nestle in closer, feels the increased proximity, and he can't help the curl of arousal that winds through him. Mads close always seems to lead to good things. It's practically Pavlovian by this point.

He wets his lips and draws in a deeper breath that is flooded with Mads' scent. Just... just a little while longer and he'll insist that they move. This is still reckless and Hugh doesn't want to get fired. But then Mads leans up and his voice drops to a tone that is _also_ Pavlovian. Hugh feels his face begin to heat and he immediately goes still, breathing quieter so as not to miss a word. And he is absolutely in _no way_ anticipating what Mads actually _says_.

Because... "c _hrist_ ," Hugh whispers, his eyes widening in a mixture of arousal (immediate, dizzying arousal) and shock.

Hugh remembers telling Mads that he'd liked him dirty talking, but _this_ is on a whole new level. Not that Hugh is complaining. He just gapes, his breath catching as Mads rather vividly described the act of fucking someone. Mads' hand comes to his own - now white-knuckled around his grip on Mads' sweater - but Hugh has to actively bite his lip to stay quiet when Mads directs his hand down and Hugh feels the sudden heat and hardness of Mads' cock under his palm. The proof that Mads is already half-hard is _really_ hot and equally arousing. But when Mads continues, Hugh is left blindsided and taken aback by how bloody _hot_ this is.

"Oh... oh my god, Mads," Hugh whispers, the sound dazed, maybe a little choked. His slacks are tented obviously and he can feel the heat in his cheeks. "I- ...I don't even know what to-- where did this even come _\-- fuck."_ Hugh swallows. "I, uh... I've never been... been inside of someone. And it's-- it's not that I don't want that. I do. But... uh. I... yeah."

He nods, quick, and after wetting his lips again, Hugh glances down between them and then presses his hand to the outline of Mads' dick a little firmer. He trails his thumb over the line of his cock, breath shuddering.

"I'd like to know what having someone inside of me feels like, too. Uh... you, preferably."

* * *

Yeah, this is irresponsible. Hugh works here. Goes to school here. Hugh has expectations of him, a reputation (probably?). Being near-pinned to a bookshelf, a hand on some older man's crotch? It doesn't look good. There's no good way to spin this. Mads has been behaving for a while here, been talking the talk _and_ walking the walk. He makes sure Hugh gets to school on time, makes sure the damn kid eats and sleeps and relaxes...

This isn't exactly _good_ behavior for Mads. It's especially complicated because Mads knows he's not going to let himself fuck Hugh. He _can't._ He just can't. Maybe Hugh's first time won't be some candlelit romantic affair - it doesn't need to be - but Mads wants Hugh to have an _appropriate_ first time. With a boyfriend or a girlfriend and if they're not in love, well, they could at least have the potential to be in love.

This is just a bit of fun, some dirty talk, some fantasizing... Mads knows that Hugh likes him dirty talking so he's hoping Hugh doesn't call him some pervert and push him away. God, he can't even imagine what he'd do then. Apologize profusely and feel like the world's biggest idiot.

Hugh doesn't push away. Hugh is shocked and he babbles The sheer earnestness in Hugh's words and tone is both endearing and arousing. It shouldn't be, at least not this much, because Mads has never had some damn kink for virgins or inexperience, but whoop, here it is! Hugh's vocabulary is expansive and while he's usually well-spoken, if he's excited or nervous he stutters. But it's cute. At least it is to Mads.

When a firmer touch is paid to his cock, Mads grins through a breathy moan. Arousal burns low and warm, not caring one shit about where they're at.

_'I'd like to know what having someone inside of me feels like, too. Uh... you, preferably.'_

_Shit._ He feels himself harden, feels almost winded by the punch of desire that hits him. Mads closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath in.

"Baby," Mads murmurs, moving forward and kissing along a barely stubbled jaw. Mads squeezes Hugh's hand before lifting away to rub the back of his own hand against Hugh's trapped erection. "So hard for me, why don't we get you home so I can take care of this?"

* * *

Being able to touch Mads is still really new, and the novelty hasn't worn off. Hugh isn't certain that it ever will. It had only been a few days ago that Mads had let Hugh get him off in the shower, and while Hugh _knows_ he had to have touched Mads before, back during the drunken evening, he can't remember it the way he wants to. Having new memories is significantly better for him, and as Mads encourages him to touch and then moans through a grin because of it, Hugh feels his own prick ache and feels himself offering Mads a rather distracted smile back. Hugh touches, shivering at the heat under his palm, the ache of proof that Mads is as into this as he is. _Mads_ had been the one to push here, and Hugh is more than ready to go along with whatever he wants.

That desire only doubles when Hugh feels Mads' cock harden in his hand, when he hears Mads' low pet name - _baby_ , not babe, _fuck_ \- and when Hugh feels the light rasp of stubble against his jaw. He bites back a sound just in case they're not alone, but at the first touch to _his_ cock, Hugh can't help the tight moan that escapes him.

"Mads," he hisses, his hips pressing against the back of Mads' hand, chasing the sensation. He knows it's a bad idea, but Mads has successfully turned his focus _away_ from work. So the suggestion to go back home is met immediately with a quick, jerky nod and a breathless curse. Hugh turns his head, pressing a kiss to Mads' throat while he gives Mads' cock a lingering squeeze.

"Yeah... _fuck_ , yeah, please. I-- just let me... let me finish here. Then I'll meet you in the car? Did you drive? Never mind, of course you bloody drove." Rambling? Check. Hugh doesn't care currently; he's too turned on to feel overly self-conscious right now.

It's with _wild_ reluctance that Hugh needs to pull away, but he doesn't do it without a few quick kisses to Mads' jaw and - when he draws back enough - his lips. The last kiss is lingering and significantly less chaste, but he still makes himself pull away after, flushed and flustered. He closes... likely faster than he ever has before. Hugh doesn't even remember what he does with his mug of tea, but he signs out of all of the accounts, remembers to arm the security system, does a final walk-around the library to check for students, and then grabs his jacket and bag on the way out. He's walking somewhat bow-legged, each step stimulating in a way it probably shouldn't be at work, but he rushes to the front door and is entirely not surprised to see Mads waiting. Honestly Hugh would have done the same thing.

"Come on. Home?" Hugh prompts, looking around quickly before he leans in and presses another kiss to the corner of Mads' lips. " _Please?_ Still can't believe you met me here. Best - and most erotic - end to a shift ever."

* * *

It's far too hard to pull himself away from Hugh Dancy. Mads can hear the evident arousal, he can feel it. He loves the way Hugh is eager and hungry to chase his touch. He loves the way Hugh bites out his name, in a half-groan, half-whine. The enthusiasm is intoxicating, the genuine responses addicting. All Mads wants to do is give Hugh _more_ to react to and drink every detail in. In another life, Hugh Dancy would have been some artist's muse, he's sure of it.

But here in the library is not the place for more sexual exploration. So it's after another few rambling lines from Hugh and a few heated kisses that they part. Mads positions his cock upward and tucks it into the waistband of his boxers, allowing the elastic to hold it there lest he walk around with a raging boner (no thanks). Hugh is flushed and fumbling when he walks away and Mads is far too endeared for his his own good.

He exits the library, now thankful for the cooler November air as it helps clear his mind a little. Mads chooses to stay outside and wait for Hugh. Yeah, maybe it's a little lame, but it would feel weird to just get back into his car and idle waiting for Hugh. Instead they can walk back together. So Mads shoves his hands into his pockets. He's itching for a cigarette but he actually forgot his smokes at home. He glances around the campus, various students coming and going into and out of buildings. Most of them are young, but there are of course older people as well. He briefly wonders what it would have been like to meet Hugh when he was in school.

Thankfully he doesn't have to wait long (or think about that scenario) because Hugh is bounding out of the doors and near-whining to go home. It warms Mads to think that Hugh considers his place _home._ Stability is important for kids. And then Hugh is giving him a quick peck of a kiss and has Mads grinning.

"Giving you future fantasies, am I?" He elbows Hugh playfully before he reaches out to place a guiding hand on the back of Hugh's neck, his fingers creeping up into hair. He all but steers Hugh to his car.

Traffic cooperates (which is a plus) and by the time they're back home, the both of them are both grinning like idiots and looking disarrayed. They might have been _a little_ handsy while in the car.

"Go take a quick shower and meet me in my room, yeah? Clean _thoroughly_ if you get my meaning," Mads suggests and swats at Hugh's ass to get him moving.

Mads slips off his shoes and heads toward the living room for his cigarettes. He's going to need one (or a few).

* * *

Hugh actually forgets his bag in the car when they arrive back home. That alone is enough proof for him to know that Mads is _really_ good at both distracting him and relaxing him. While his arousal had calmed a little during the ride, he's still not soft thanks to Mads' wandering hands, and Hugh's pretty damn proud of his own wandering fingers. Mads' shirt is half-undone and Hugh had managed to sneak the tongue of Mads' belt from its loop before he'd decided not to go down that road while Mads had been driving.

Now, grinning like a bloody lunatic, Hugh not even noticing that his bag is still in the floor space of the passenger's seat of Mads' car, he's tempted to start back up again.

He doesn't, but only because Mads quickly gives him something _else_ to do. Immediately Hugh's grin dies into a smile that holds a rather obvious bite of arousal, and there's no hiding the little shiver that slides through him. He reaches down and blatantly presses a hand to the front of his trousers, pressing with a mild wince of would-be pleasure. The last thing he wants to do is come just from a bloody suggestion.

Hugh doesn't linger. Though he does gasp at the quick, playful swat to his arse (that brings back a good memory or two), and though his cheeks do heat in understanding, he kicks off his shoes, tosses his jacket unceremoniously over the back of 'his' spot on the sofa, and then nods. With a quick backwards look at Mads, Hugh wets his lips and then turns, darting quickly up the stairs towards the guest bathroom.

It is... probably ridiculous just how quickly Hugh manages to shower. While he's never been one to take hour-long showers, he's also not one to only indulge for only five minutes. This time, eager and already getting visibly turned on again, he's done cleaning in less than five minutes, but he does heed Mads' warning for the next three. It's awkward, and Hugh's face burns with mild embarrassment as he soaps his fingers up and props one foot up on the edge of the bathtub, but he's not willing to leave _this_ to chance.

By the time that Hugh finally steps out of the bathroom, wrapped in a fluffy sky blue towel, he's hard again. The touch of his own fingers had felt good, and he'd just been cleaning. He's already feeling a little dizzy with anticipation over what it'll feel like with _Mads_. So Hugh doesn't waste time in walking to Mads' room, and while he does knock, he doesn't wait for an answer before he steps into Mads' bedroom, a small anticipatory smile on his lips.

It promptly falls into a look of blatant interest when he catches sight of Mads. Hugh stares, his eyes quickly, _appreciatively_ darting from Mads' bare chest, to his dress slacks and bare feet, then back up to the curl of smoke drifting up from the cigarette between his lips. Hugh swallows. It's times like these that make him forget all about Mads' love of neon colors.

"Oh... wow," Hugh says, intelligently. "Okay, there's _no_ way you didn't _plan_ on looking that attractive. Christ..."

* * *

Smokes retrieved, Mads makes his way to his bedroom. There are other places he could have picked -- Hugh's bedroom or the living room for example, but Mads has everything he needs in his bedroom for this particular endeavor. And maybe he wants to give Hugh a new pleasant impression of his bedroom, to rewrite the last one. After all, the last time Hugh had been in his bed, he'd been hungover and Mads had offended him by trying to give him cash. (Which now makes him think that Hugh hasn't found the money he'd stashed away in his knapsack. Hmm...)

Mads hears the shower start as he slips off his sweater, pulls off his socks and removes his belt. He forgoes taking off his dress pants, however. He's not going to fuck Hugh. These need to stay on. Mads smokes half a cigarette before he grabs two plush towels, retrieves the lube and gathers up a few different sized silicone dildos (already properly cleaned). Mads doesn't know if Hugh will want to try them out, but at least they will be handy if he does. The lights are set lower but not to the setting where vision would be impaired. Mood lighting. No music.

The items are on the other side of him as he settles on the bed and takes his cigarette from the ashtray beside the bed. Mads is sitting up, leaned against the headboard when he hears the shower stop. Excitement springs through him and Mads takes a second to consciously try and tell himself to relax.

This is for Hugh. Mads is going to at least teach Hugh how to properly go about doing _this._ Some sex education. Yep. Focus.

A knock and then a moment later the door swings open and a wet beautiful Hugh standing in his doorframe. He also ogles. And Mads can't help but laugh at Hugh's appraisal that _he_ had been trying to look sexy or whatever.

"If you say so, babe," Mads says and he takes one last drag from his smoke before stubbing it out in the tray. He then beckons Hugh over with a come-hither motion of his finger. Hugh does come, seeming to be in a bit of a daze (which is honestly far too cute and Mads has never been crazy about cute-shit before).

"Take the towel off and lay on your stomach, I'll give you a bit of a massage to relax first," Mads explains and he doesn't stare lewdly as Hugh complies and places the towel down on the bed before coming to lay on top of it. The bruising on Hugh's ass has faded considerably, but there's still some color and it pleases Mads to see it.

"You know you're gorgeous, right?" Mads gets to his knees and then climbs over Hugh's legs, one knee on each side of his thighs straddling before Mads sits down. He'll have easy access to massage Hugh's neck, shoulders, mid and low back and his ass like this.

Mads is no masseuse but he enjoys giving the occasional massage to a willing partner and he wastes no time in doing just that, starting at Hugh's neck and shoulders and working his way down.

* * *

It takes Hugh a moment to realize that Mads' room looks different than the last time he'd seen it. Distracted by _Mads_ , Hugh doesn't realize what the difference is at first, but when he realizes that Mads himself looks a little different, Hugh glances to the lights in the room and - yep. Dimmer. Hugh blinks, because that's _mood lighting_ , and something giddy twists in his chest that Mads had apparently thought of this. He doesn't yet notice Mads' little _collection_ as he walks into the bedroom, looking around. He has enough memories of this place to remind him of the last time he'd been here, but already his pulse is quick. Sofie had been here the night that the whole _good girl_ thing had happened, and now... now _he's_ here. It feels a little like an honor, but mostly it's just thrilling.

When Mads directs him to the bed, Hugh wets his lips quickly before nodding. He's never had anyone give him any sort of massage before anything sexual before. Hastening to obey, Hugh unwinds the towel and lays it across the bed before climbing up onto it. Hugh takes a second to fold his arms in front of him and then he gingerly eases himself down, shivering as his cock presses against the fabric of the towel.

Hugh endeavors not to squirm as he lays his head down on his arms, but it isn't until Mads moves and complements him that Hugh's skin flushes with pleasure. He smiles, almost shyly, but he still glances back to look at Mads over his shoulder. The room smells pleasantly of smoke.

"I could arguably say the same about you. You're going all-out," Hugh adds, though instead of teasing, he sounds almost awed to know that Mads is doing this for _him_.

He settles in pleasantly, and when Mads' hands finally come to his skin, Hugh shivers. It's only unfamiliar for a second. Then Hugh feels Mads' hands slide over the tense, sore muscles in his neck and shoulders and press in, working the tension and the knots free. Hugh winces a little at first but it's not a bad feeling. It's tender, but Mads clearly knows what he's doing.

"Ohhh... my god," Hugh murmurs, his voice a soft, appreciative groan.

He can feel Mads' hands on his skin, and he can feel the slight scratch of his slacks, and it's a _good_ feeling. Bit by bit, as Mads' hands work, Hugh feels himself relaxing more and more. He half-closes his eyes in contentment and thinks about massages and bloody _mood lighting_ , and feels his face heat a little. But it's when Hugh begins to glance back at Mads again that he _finally_ catches sight of the lube, towels, and...

" _Oh_. Are-- are those...?"

* * *

Some massage oil would probably help out, but Mads doesn't feel like stopping and fetching it. He also doesn't feel like getting Hugh all slicked up in products. So Mads focuses on rubbing various muscles and more or less basking in being able to freely touch Hugh and see so much skin revealed to him. He's not a complete perv here, though. He does want Hugh to be relaxed before he begins anything anal-related and a massage should help.

Minutes pass, Mads' hands warmer from touching Hugh and his pants a little tighter, but Mads doesn't seek to do anything about it. He doesn't lean down to try and grind into Hugh's ass or anything. He enjoys the comfortable and easy atmosphere that exists between them. He enjoys the small groans and shudders his touch evokes. Mads drinks up any responses he can get and little by little he does see Hugh relaxing more.

And then he feels Hugh tense up in surprise as the kid seems to then notice the dildos and then asks about them. Mads swats at Hugh's ass playfully.

"Relax, yeah, they're dildos. Clean and ready to go when _and_ if you're ready for them -- later though," Mads answers.

His hands come to knead at Hugh's lower back and then dip lower to the beginnings of his asscheeks.

"Starting with fingers is what we'll do," Mads explains. "If you still want that, I mean." His palms cup each cheek before spreading them a little apart and exposing Hugh's tight virgin hole. He feels his erection only grow at the sight. "You want me to play with your pretty ass, babe?"

God, Mads hopes it's a yes, but he's not going to force anything.

* * *

Those are dildos. Mads has... Mads has dildos. Hugh isn't sure how surprised he is over the knowledge, but he _is_ surprised that Mads intends to use them on him. Surprised and bloody turned on, more like it, because the _thought_ of Mads not only pushing one in but _watching_ Hugh while he's doing it is enough to send a frisson of sharp desire and embarrassment through him. How often those things coincide with Mads, Christ. Hugh shivers, a little distracted from the massage, but the slight sting from the swat to his arse does register.

It makes him squirm, makes his breath hitch, and when Mads' massage moves down, Hugh moans softly under his breath.

His cock aches under him, pressed against the sheets, and Hugh feels a little dizzy with desire as Mads' hands work at his skin. It's the most he's been touched and he feels relaxed because of it, his mind abuzz with anticipation and need. Though, when Mads suddenly spreads his cheeks and Hugh feels colder air against his skin, he can't help his gasp, nor can he help the frisson of embarrassment he feels at being _this_ exposed.

It goes right to his prick and he lets out a shuddering breath, the anticipation only rising.

"God, you're going to be the death of me," Hugh breathes, sounding perfectly stunned with want. "Y-yeah. _Yes_ , yes I want you to-- to use your fingers. How is that even a question?"

He sounds breathless, but he can't help a little laugh anyway, awed and almost disbelieving. "Preferably sooner rather than later."

* * *

Is still feels like a dream to have Hugh back in his bed. Hugh is naked, laying on his stomach, practically pinned and his ass spread open. It's really fucking hot is what it is. Hugh's body is pliant and warm, his skin soft and supple. Mads can't help but feel rather taken by Hugh's pert ass. Hugh's hole is tight and waiting for him.

But Mads is waiting for permission. Permission is paramount, essential in this. And Hugh gives it to him, his voice raspier with arousal that has Mads' cock absolutely _aching._ But the laugh that follows is adorable, and Mads is glad that they have this easygoing rapport that allows for humor during times where other people would consider it strange or inappropriate. Mads thrives on being able to be relaxed -- to be able to be himself.

"Preferably sooner rather than later, hmm?" Mads echoes back. But he doesn't tease any longer and Mads' head drops down.

He spits on Hugh's waiting hole. Yeah, maybe it's a bit cheesy, maybe it's a bit vulgar because it's something often exaggerated in porn, but Mads doesn't make a huge fanfare over it. He'll use lube, just not yet. He wants _his_ spit touching Hugh first. And Mads' right hand slides down, his index and middle finger coming to the furled skin and smearing his spit over it. He touches lightly, just wanting Hugh to adjust to the sensation.

* * *

Hugh's damn glad that he has this rapport with Mads. He admittedly doesn't have the experience under his belt that a lot of people his age do, but he's gotten off with another person before, and Hugh hadn't really liked the rigidness of it. The inability to laugh or joke around, or acknowledge when something embarrassing or funny happened. It had been good, sure, but it hadn't been genuine.

Up until this point, with Mads, he hadn't even realized _what_ had been wrong before, but being able to grin and laugh and joke around with Mads even like this adds a completely new layer to the whole thing. It's intimate and it's hot as Hell, but it's also comfortable. It's familiar. Hugh loves it.

He's expecting Mads' answer, teasing as it is, and Hugh's already smiling when suddenly he feels the slide of wetness over his skin. He jolts, surprised, and cranes his neck back in an attempt to see, because he hadn't _heard_ Mads go for the lube. But when he finally puts two and two together and feels Mads' first two fingers begin to slowly touch and rub over his hole, Hugh's reasonably sure his face is red enough to sound some sort of alarm.

It's more than the awe and arousal, though, it's the way it feels on a physical level. He's never had this done to him before and just the sensation makes him want to squirm.

"Oh, wow," he breathes, still reeling, but not in a bad way. "I didn't... know people actually did that. Good to know."

Mads had used his spit. Something in Hugh's mind argues that it _shouldn't_ be as hot as he'd found it, but he can't figure out what. He only knows that his cock is throbbing and the slow, wet press of Mads' fingers against his skin has Hugh breathless. The hint of it, the tease, has him shaking slightly with anticipation. He moans low under his breath, settling back down against the bed, his hole twitching under Mads' touch without Hugh's conscious decision.

"God, that feels good. Weird, but good. Sensitive." He shifts, squirming a little.

* * *

Using spit isn't always sexy. Sometimes it's the opposite of sexy depending on the partner and the situation. It's maybe a bit more primal, but Mads likes it for a quick go-to. Spit will never work better than lube and it won't provide the necessary slickness for _actual_ stretching, but it provides wetness for his fingers to slide against a clit or a waiting hole.

And Mads likes the feel of his spit smearing onto a very sensitive spot on Hugh. There's a great degree of trust that is required to take off your underthings, spread your legs, and expose yourself in such a way. Mads also knows that it can be arousing to be a little embarrassed with a partner. He thinks Hugh might like that kind of thing because of the spanking, but he's not about to bring it up and ask now.

Hugh's verbal response is endearing. Hugh is almost chatty about it, but that's a good sign. Mads would rather have Hugh talking than clamming up. The tips of Mads' fingers press and rub his spit into skin that's responsive, Hugh's hole slightly spasming from the attention. Mads' own cock is fully hard and aching just from Hugh's reaction but he still does nothing to relieve it.

"Weird, but good," Mads confirms. "You're so hot like this, babe. Your body so responsive and eager."

Mads' head leans down again and he spits once more. His middle finger rubs the glob of saliva over Hugh's hole before lightly circling around the rim. He then presses just the tip a little, not enough to breach, but to insinuate it.

"Tell me what you want."

* * *

Every touch to Hugh's skin has sensation easing through him. He's not used to the way this feels, but he likes it. He likes it a lot, particularly because it's _Mads_ , and he has a good track record of making everything feel bloody fantastic. Even the spanking had felt good in its own way, intense in a way slightly different than this, but still good.

Hugh shivers, his prick aching, his muscles relaxed from the massage that Mads had given him, and body sensitive from the press and stroke of Mads' curious fingers. Hugh's pretty damn sure he's going to do this again in the future, though he's also sure that most of his enjoyment is the anticipation, and the fact that it's _Mads_.

He glances briefly back at the dildos and heat prickles along the back of his neck. Hugh quickly turns away because he doesn't want to get so excited about the possibilities that he stops focusing on this. And _this_ quickly turns into low, rumbling praise that has Hugh shivering as Mads once again leans down and spits.

Again, it's bloody hot in a way that it shouldn't be, but when Mads' fingers begin to rub and tease again, Hugh bows his back just enough to feel it better. His soft groan hitches when one of Mads' fingers begins to hint at _more_ , however, and Hugh shifts, biting his lower lip as he pushes back just enough to feel it. He can't do much with Mads guiding him, but _Christ_ , he's practically vibrating with excitement.

"God, Mads," Hugh breathes, but there's no hesitation in him when he manages to wrap his head around what Mads is asking him. He hasn't forgotten what Mads had said when he'd guided Hugh's hand against his dick in the library. He wets his lips.

"I want what you said at the library. Someone inside of me. But _right_ now? I want... to know what it feels like for you to use your fingers. Inside," he adds, though he realizes a second later that he likely hadn't _needed_ the clarification.

* * *

While Mads is more than willing to do some experimentation, he doesn't often do _this_ to himself. He's allowed Sofie to explore a little and sure, one finger up his ass while she gives him a blowjob is the right kind of interesting, but Mads doesn't know if he'd like more or to even go as far as getting fucked one day. He has one smaller vibrator he likes when he's especially wound up and a normal jerk off section won't cut it.

Hugh's enjoyment is obvious. Mads sees Hugh arch into the touch, he hears the broken groan that follows and it's all so damn hot to see the squirming and hear the enjoyment. When Hugh practically pushes back, encouraging, Mads almost loses it. Almost.

Hugh's voice is breathy and almost brittle and Mads has to clench his jaw shut to hold himself back from uttering a few too many sentiments that he knows he would regret. (Because he's not going to fuck Hugh. He's not going to take that from him. Hugh deserves more, deserves better than just a pervy older man taking his virginity.) So Mads' free hand reaches for the lube.

"Give me a sec," he murmurs and pulls his fingers away. Mads squeezes some lube out on them and rubs the gel to warm it up some before spreading Hugh's ass open once again. "Might a be a little cool," he warns before smearing the lube over Hugh's hole.

His index finger teases a few times, pushing gently before finally the tip of his finger slips inside. Mads then pauses to give Hugh time to adjust.

* * *

Hugh doesn't know where Mads' thoughts have gone. His focus has narrowed in on the touch of Mads' fingers, the scratch of his slacks over Hugh's skin, and the brief silence that follows Hugh's request. He's breathless with anticipation even though he knows that Mads is going to allow this, going to teach and show him. Hugh wets his lips, waiting, and when Mads finally murmurs his answer, his voice sounding a little rougher and strained, Hugh feels a quick spark of satisfaction race up his spine.

Maybe it's ridiculous, but _he_ did that. He hasn't even touched Mads, and he sounds turned on. It's a good feeling.

What isn't a good feeling is losing the touch of Mads' fingers, but Hugh maintains that it's only temporary. He waits, almost wishing he were on his back instead so he could watch Mads, but also kind of glad that he's on his stomach. It's _really_ intimate to know Mads is touching him where he is, and when those fingers return (with a verbal warning that the lube might be cool, and it is) Hugh's breathing catches, both from the realization that this is really happening, and at the chill.

He flinches at the touch but not in a bad way. He just feels wired with anticipation, his pulse quick, and each time Mads' finger pushes and teases but doesn't push _in_ , Hugh's grip on the sheets tightens.

So when he does feel the slow, careful press, when he feels the tip of Mads' finger gently press inside, Hugh's body gives a tiny jerk of surprise that melts into a shiver as he relaxes. If the touch before had been weird, it has nothing on this.

"Oh, wow," Hugh breathes, and his cock aches all the more at the knowledge that technically Mads is inside of him. Mads waits, and it isn't too much longer before Hugh decides that he's okay for more. "You can... you can press in more, if you want to. I want you to," he adds, firmer, trying to remember to sound confident.

* * *

Mads is all wide eyes and intently focused as the tip of his finger pushes past the tight ring of muscle. He's careful. He doesn't push more or take it out to repeat the motion. He allows Hugh the time and space needed to process the sensations. Hugh first (understandably) jerks from it but he then relaxes. Mads can't help but smile at such a pretty sight. Hugh naked and before him, trusting him enough with this. The tip of his finger inside. It seems significant.

And when Hugh gives him the go-ahead, Mads doesn't miss that Hugh is taking a bit more onus - telling him that he _wants_ it and Mads likes that.

"You make sure that you always use lube when you do this with someone else," Mads says as he pushes his finger in deeper inside of Hugh. "It's important to go slow and for you to be relaxed, yeah?" Mads' other hand rubs over the swell of Hugh's ass as his finger pushes the entire way inside.

This should be educational. This is what Mads is telling himself. It's important that Hugh learns the essentials. It's the least Mads can do if he's going to be fooling around with someone so damn young and inexperienced.

* * *

It's potentially the strangest sensation that Hugh has ever encountered, but there's an intense edge to it, like an electric current buzzing under his skin. At first he thinks it's anticipation, and that could definitely be the case, but as Mads' voice gently instructs and as Hugh feels his finger begin to press in deeper, he finds himself kind of shocked to realize that the sensation is a strange kind of arousal. Hugh shivers and fights to remain as relaxed as he feels, though he can't quite stop the occasional clench around Mads' finger, his body not used to the current situation. It's similar to the way he'd felt when Mads had spanked him, a buzzing, intense sensation that registers as pleasure.

Mads' words kind of go in one ear and out the other at first but Hugh eventually understands enough to nod. Lube is important. He doesn't even want to _think_ about doing this with someone else, though. Mads might have only known him for a short time, but Hugh feels comfortable with him. He can't imagine feeling this comfortable with anyone else.

So while he nods, it's a little half-hearted, his focus nearly locked on the slow, careful progression of Mads' finger. On how it feels bigger than he'd have expected, and on how there's a slight roughness of calluses to it that feels... good. He thinks it feels good.

Hugh's control is at least good enough to stay still for a time. But when Mads makes that final push, when he feels Mads' knuckles against his ass and realizes that Mads' entire finger is inside of him? His gasp is hitched, his hips giving a quick, aborted jerk that only sends frissons of that hyper-sensitive pleasure through him as the sensation drags on the inside, making his gasp slide into a low, dazed moan.

"God, I didn't expect it to feel so... to feel like so _much_ ," Hugh manages, rocking his hips a little and feeling his muscles clench down around Mads' finger without his say-so. It's a lot.

* * *

A casual sexual relationship. This is what Hugh and he have. It's not quite a friend's with benefits deal because there exists an pretty big imbalance between them. They're not exactly friend-friends anyway. Mads monetarily provides for Hugh and more than just tuition, Mads provides Hugh with a place to stay. Their entire arrangement is way too close to the whole Sugar Daddy thing.

Which is why Mads wants to make sure that Hugh never feels pressured to do anything. Mads' help isn't contingent on Hugh messing around with him. But right now Mads can tell that Hugh is really into this. Every audible gasp, every little twitch tells Mads that this is a good thing. Hugh's comment has Mads' chuckling softly.

"It is a lot when you're not used to it," he says. "But we'll get you used to it, babe. Just try and stay relaxed."

Mads doesn't rush in this. His finger slides out and then pushes slowly back in. He's almost leisurely with fingering Hugh, enjoying how Hugh gradually begins to relax. Mads' other hand rubs over Hugh's skin, over his ass and lower back, soothing.

It's only when they've worked up two fingers that Mads deliberately curls his fingers and looks to stimulate Hugh's prostate. In case it's too much, Mads places his palm on the dip in Hugh's back to hold him still.

* * *

It's a lot, but that isn't a _bad_ thing. Mads is slow and careful, and Hugh feels somehow like he's getting just as much out of this as Hugh is. There's no impatience in Mads' actions, and Hugh heeds his instructions without fail, doing what he can to relax as Mads' finger presses in and begins to move. He stays as relaxed as he can as Mads slowly works him up, and while it feels like a lot at first, gradually the sensation becomes a little more predictable, a little more comfortable.

Hugh thinks it feels good in a kind of sensitive, unfamiliar way, but he doesn't think he could get off from just this. But he's patient, enjoying the attention more than anything as Mads' other hand strokes leisurely over his skin. _That_ only adds to the intimacy, and Hugh's kind of embarrassingly into it.

But when one finger becomes two, that intensity returns. Hugh tenses without meaning to, but Mads is careful with it, soothing and reassuring, and Hugh can't help a soft, breathless laugh as Mads murmurs to him, smoothing away his uncertainty and bleeding familiarity and relaxation back into him. It doesn't take too long for the feeling of _two_ to become more familiar, and Hugh shivers, beginning to press back with soft, breathy sounds. The fact that Mads' _fingers_ are inside of him is something he's still not over.

The sudden spike of sensation catches him completely off guard.

Hugh jolts with a sharp, startled gasp at the first touch. He's more shocked than anything, but then Mads' hand presses warmly against his back, pinning him in place, and the sensation comes again, deeper, and Hugh's toes curl at the feel of it.

"F-fuck, Mads, what--" Hugh begins, but a second later, he realizes. He _does_ know male anatomy; he just hadn't expected it to feel so sharp. But even as he begins to squirm a little, his cock throbbing, the sensation begins to edge down from sudden sharpness into a low, curling pleasure that makes him shudder and groan.

" _Christ_ , Mads."

* * *

Mads wants to be careful with this. Mads needs to be careful with this. Hugh deserves a good 'first time' with exploring having his ass be played with. Hugh is still a fucking virgin, for Christ sake and Mads wants to have this be a favorable first time. He's not going to fuck Hugh. He can't go that far, but Mads will stretch Hugh's ass and show him how preparation works. He's also going to show him that it can be rather pleasurable to have the prostate touched.

It's only after Hugh has loosened enough for two of his fingers and that he's begun to rock back somewhat that Mads pushes. It's pretty damn clear when he manages to graze against that sensitive part within Hugh. A near-spasm of surprise jerks through Hugh and Mads had been correct in knowing that he'd need to hold Hugh down.

"Feels good, yeah?" Mads' contentment is very evident in his voice. His own boxers and pants are still tight, his cock hard and aching, but Mads ignores it. The discomfort is nothing in comparison to Hugh Dancy laid out before him with two fingers buried deep inside.

Mads isn't overbearing. He's careful to not overwhelm Hugh with the new sensations. As hot as Hugh is, pert ass and pale and shaking, Mads has the realization that if they do this again, he'd love to see Hugh's face, his expression. He pumps his fingers and curls them every so often. It's only when Hugh has gotten noticeably sweatier and louder that Mads thinks it's time to move onto something more.

"Hey, you feel up for trying a toy?" Mads asks as his fingers slowly slip out and just rub over Hugh's puffy hole lovingly.

* * *

To Hugh's mutual relief and disappointment, Mads doesn't just keep his fingers where they had been. It makes sense though. As good as it feels, as sharp as the sensation is, it had been a lot all at once. So when Mads' fingers only press down for a few moments before moving on to slowly press back in deeper, Hugh bites at his lower lip and takes the break to catch his breath, the rigidness leaving his muscles shakily. It's not that Mads' fingers deep inside of him don't still feel amazing, either. It just brings the sensation back down to a manageable level so that he can catch his breath, and Hugh's suddenly, desperately relieved that he's doing this with Mads and not someone else. He can't even imagine doing this with any of his past 'partners'.

Mads seems to know just what to do, too. He sets an easy pace that lets Hugh feel every press and thrust, but when he curls his fingers every few thrusts, he's still there with a hand on Hugh's back to keep him settled as Hugh gasps and tenses. It's a steady build up with a deep, aching, restless pleasure that builds slowly, but it isn't too long before Hugh's left trying to press back, or to chase the sensation when Mads' fingers slide away. He doesn't even realize he's gotten louder until one curled thrust makes him moan outright, and that must be some sort of sign because then Mads' fingers are drawing back and pulling out.

Breathless, Hugh begins to protest, but then Mads' fingers press against his hole and the sensation helps him to settle again. He listens, his prick aching, his body feeling wired, and Hugh's voice almost breaks on a soft curse as he nods, brushing damp bangs back away from his eyes as he looks back at Mads, his eyes dark and half-lidded.

"A-absolutely, yes. Anything that feels like _that_."

* * *

As Hugh looks back over his shoulder, Mads has the thought that Hugh is a vision like this. He enjoys the appearance of the flushed cheeks, Hugh's sweaty bangs, the glazed and awe struck eyes. Mads is the cause of these things and honestly having a visual enhances the entire experience. It seems like every time with Hugh somehow tops the last or at least is still really memorable.

And Mads doesn't want to think too deeply on it. He knows this isn't permanent. It's not serious. It's already kind of disreputable. It's kind of scandalous or at least frowned upon. For example, Mads is pretty sure Hugh's parents wouldn't be thrilled about their son's current living situation. But as Hugh answers, concerns fade away. Yeah, maybe this is his midlife crisis, but there's something so damn captivating about Hugh and Mads feels hooked. He's not giving this up. Not yet at least.

"Okay, okay," Mads answers, flashing a grin as he reaches his dry hand out to the collection laying beside them. He selects a smaller silicone black vibrating dildo. It's shaped like a penis but not overly thick and only 5.5 inches long. "Give me a second, need to lube it up first," Mads explains as his slick fingers leave Hugh's skin. "It's already been cleaned from last use. That's important, babe. Use a condom if you're not sure," he says as he squeezes out more lube and coats the toy.

Mads spreads Hugh's ass apart with one hand before rubbing the head of the realistic dildo against Hugh's waiting hole.

"There's my good boy and his good hole," Mads praises softly as he teases pushing it in a few times before finally breaching Hugh and slowly sliding the soft toy inside. He doesn't turn it on. He's going to at least let Hugh get used to the feeling first.

* * *

Hugh doesn't make the decision to start smiling, but there's something infectious about Mads' grin and the ease between them even like this. It's something Hugh keeps on coming back to - how at ease and _good_ he feels when he's with Mads - and some of the ache of desperation eases once Hugh is looking back at Mads again. It's difficult to see what he's doing, and Hugh can't see the toy he picks, but he trusts Mads. His pulse quickens in excitement and a small hint of nerves, but he wants this. He wants to let Mads do this for him. To him.

Who _else_ would impart safe sex toy facts to him, after all? Hugh's cheeks color a little, but he nods, feeling giddy and wired as the sound of lubrication slides over whatever Mads has chosen. He might not be able to see Mads, but he can _feel_ him, and that means something. Still, he twitches a little in surprise at the first - surprisingly silky - touch of... _something_ to his hole. The lube is a little cold, and the toy doesn't have the warmth of Mads' fingers, but it feels a little bigger and shaped... Hugh's flush deepens a little. He's pretty sure he knows what it's shaped like.

Mads doesn't slide it inside though. He teases first, rubbing slowly, and Hugh shifts, surprised by how much he wants to feel it properly. Mads just teases though, and Hugh groans softly, the sound a little impatient, but before he can ask for more Mads' voice cuts through the fog again. Hugh's stomach flips, his dick twitches alarmingly, and he has to bite hard at his lip with a clipped sound, because _good boy_ still gets him. He shudders, breathing Mads' name out like a plea.

Hugh's not sure if it's that or if Mads just wants to, but it doesn't take long for Mads to stop teasing. The first slow press of the toy feels odd; it lacks warmth, but it's smooth and silky and it doesn't really sting. The tip of it seems a little smaller, but as Mads presses it in steadily deeper, Hugh feels more of a stretch. He shivers, his hips squirming a little as his body adjusts, but it's the knowledge of how he must look, of what Mads must be seeing that makes his cock ache. Hugh's moan is softer and broken, his hips pushing back just a little once he feels like he's ready.

"Keep... keep touching me. Your hand. Please," Hugh breathes, because as odd-but-good as it feels, he wants Mads' connection more. "God, Mads."

* * *

Yeah, Mads knows that _good boy_ still affects Hugh. He says it on purpose and he's not ashamed to admit just how much _he_ enjoys Hugh's reaction to it. Hugh moans his name out and god, Mads likes hearing that desperation. So, he pushes the slender dildo inside Hugh's body and his eyes are fully glued on Hugh and how he takes it, on how he shifts just a little as if testing out the stretch.

Mads thinks it's pretty much the hottest sight he's seen as the black silicone dildo slides and fills Hugh up. The push back against the toy has Mads biting his lip and he realizes now that his slacks are a little wet at where the tip of his cock has leaked pre-come.

And Mads has no reason to _not_ listen to Hugh. His other hand rubs over pert asscheeks, stroking and soothing. Mads' grip is tight on the base of the toy and he slides it half out before pushing it back in. The pace is slow, Mads still doesn't want to overwhelm Hugh. He touches Hugh's ass, down his thighs and then up his back. He watches Hugh adjust to the toy, getting more vocal and moving to encourage the thrusting.

It's only after a few minutes of slow, careful movements that Mads decides to turn the dildo on. He sees no reason to surprise Hugh with it. If it wasn't Hugh's first time doing such a thing, Mads could see the appeal of keeping things varied, but now isn't the time.

"Going to test out a little vibration, Hugh," Mads informs as his thumb slides down over the button on the base, pressing it and the toy purring into life. He then rotates the dildo deep inside of Hugh.

* * *

Hugh can't imagine ever doing this with someone else. There's a vulnerability in letting Mads do this, but it's _Mads_. Light, teasing, kind, encouraging Mads, who's never pushed him or made him feel ridiculous for his lack of experience, and who's openly encouraged Hugh to do better, both in life and in school. With anyone else, Hugh thinks he'd be stuck on how he looks like this, or how loud he's being, or on worrying if he's reacting enough or _too_ much, but not with Mads.

Mads takes his time and listens. Hugh asks to be touched, and there's no hesitation present. Mads' hand slides over his skin, from higher up on his back to a slow slide down one thigh and back again. It's grounding and relaxing and Hugh shivers, biting his lip as the toy presses in deeper and then begins to slide out. When it presses back in, he's suddenly aware that Mads is fucking him by proxy, and Hugh shudders out a moan, his hands gripping in the sheets as he focuses on how it feels.

The initial discomfort fades as Mads carefully fucks him with the dildo. He doesn't rush, doesn't get impatient, and he seems to know Hugh's body better than _Hugh_ does. Every time he squirms or shifts to get more, Mads compensates, and by the time he's breathing harder and his cock is a nearly-painful ache under him, Mads switches it up yet again, just not in the way Hugh had been expecting.

"What?" Hugh asks, but the word could easily have been mistaken for a moan. He feels wired and drunk at once, but he's pretty damn sure he'd heard the word _vibration_ , and he hadn't thought this was a--

The toy suddenly starts to vibrate and Hugh's gasp is sharp. Sensation that had been good quickly climbs in intensity and his lip slides out wetly from between his teeth as his jaw drops. Then Mads shifts the dildo - the _vibrator_ \- and Hugh's back arches at the sensation that then climbs to a level that makes him cry out softly. It's the earlier pleasure, just compounded, and it makes him jerk and moan, makes him reach back with one hand and grope blindly for Mads' leg for something to hold onto.

* * *

This evening had started with an impromptu visit to the school's library where Hugh had actually been working. Mads had pretty much stolen Hugh away from a potentially interested girl to kiss him silly against a bookshelf. Mads knows it's _him_ that started the line of sexual questioning - about Hugh's interest in being inside someone else. As he's the one with experience, Mads understands that it's usually going to be him that brings up messing around, but Hugh has definitely improved on being more assertive.

Honestly Mads can't even imagine how he'd cope if Hugh Dancy came up to him and _asked_ to be fingered again or asked for a dildo up his ass. The very idea seems like the best fantasy porn dream ever and it's one that Mads doesn't necessarily want to share either. He knows that such a feeling isn't exactly healthy in this arrangement. It's something Mads will have to monitor because he wants Hugh to not be chained down to some unattached bachelor who's a fan of casual sex.

When the vibration starts up, Hugh's reaction is delicious. Mads presses down on Hugh's lower back to keep him from possibly moving away. After all, Mads knows Hugh is pretty sensitive. Mads doesn't do much other than wiggle the vibrator as Hugh jerks and scrambles, reaching back for his leg and Mads doesn't mind the touch.

"God, you look so hot like this... you sound hot," Mads praises before pressing on the button again to increase the strength of the vibration. He grips the base to pull it out and begin fucking Hugh with the dildo. It moves swiftly in and out of Hugh's slick hole. The sensation should be a little more manageable as it has less direct prostate stimulation.

"Can you get up on your hands and knees for me? Show me that pretty ass. Show me how much you like getting fucked."

* * *

This is nothing like Hugh had been expecting. He hadn't planned for a vibrator, hadn't even let himself think about what that might _feel_ like. He doesn't have to think about it now, though. He knows, and the rumbling vibrations make him want to scramble away from the intensity and grab at Mads and never let him go. Mads' hand on his back keeps him in place, and Hugh distantly registers just _how_ hot that is, how hot it is to have Mads keeping him grounded despite the pleasure that feels so damn intense.

Hugh's fairly sure if he just twitches his hips wrong, he's going to come. His breathing is sharper and quick, his muscles trembling, and Mads' voice sounds like sex when he praises him. Hugh feels a little like he can't draw breath as the vibration intensifies, so he's glad when Mads begins to move the vibrator. It spreads out the sensation, making it less sharp but feel just as good. Instead of a pinpoint pleasure, it's all around, sensitizing his skin, making him curse out breathless mutterings of Mads' name as Mads fucks him with the toy. And yeah, that thought? Still hot.

Mads' gentle request makes Hugh shudder, makes a sound escape him that is very close to a whine as he considers. He doesn't know if he can get his limbs to do _anything_ right now, but he still nods with a breathless, "y-yeah, yeah, I think... I think I can. _Fuck_ , Mads," and then shakily does as he'd been told.

It isn't easy as his arms feel weak with pleasure, but he manages to slowly push himself up onto his knees. A thin line of precome stretches from the bedsheets to where Hugh's cock is wet and flushed and clearly _so_ close to coming. He tries going to his hands as directed, but in the end he has to settle for his elbows, each breath holding desperation.

"God, please, Mads. _Please_."

* * *

He's fucking Hugh with a vibrating dildo and Mads thinks Hugh will likely come soon - he's counting on it actually. Not that it takes very long or that it's ever been difficult to get Hugh off, but that's beside the point. Mads would rather Hugh not come while laying down on his own cock. He's a little greedy in this, a little selfish that he wants to see _more_ of Hugh, so he makes the suggestion for Hugh to move onto his knees. Maybe it's unfair of him, maybe it's not. He's certainly not going to get upset if Hugh doesn't want to, but asking never hurt anyone.

And Hugh of course complies, limbs shaky as he slowly rises to his knees. Mads stops thrusting the dildo (only polite) as Hugh moves and then has to settle on his elbows instead of his hands. Mads doesn't mind that it's not the _exact_ position he'd asked for. He understands that Hugh is close and likely overwhelmed. The begging is honestly going to be the death of him. Mads feels heat lance through him and he also gets to his knees to get a better angle. His other hand comes to firmly grasp Hugh's hip.

"Shhh, don't worry, daddy will take care of you," Mads says without thought, not even catching the slip of a certain word.

He's completely focused on getting Hugh off. He begins thrusting the dildo again, enjoying the sight and sound of the toy easily disappearing into Hugh's ass as he picks up the pace. He doesn't plan on stopping until Hugh is shaking apart.

* * *

Hugh is close. He's honestly shocked that he hadn't come when Mads had pulled the 'good boy' card, though Hugh can still feel the desperation pounding through him. The sensation of the toy alone is intense, but despite Hugh's trembling and gasping, he knows that without Mads, it wouldn't be half as pleasurable. There's something hot and comforting about Mads' hand moving to his hip as Mads shifts with him, and Hugh can feel the edge closing in, can feel his skin flushing with desire.

But while _Mads_ doesn't notice what he'd said, Hugh's entire world seems zoomed in on _Mads_. On his touch, the sound of his voice and of his praise, on how his knuckles brush against Hugh's skin whenever he thrusts the dildo in deeper, and on the soft, barely-there sounds of his own arousal. So when Mads' voice casually skims across the word _daddy_ , Hugh initially freezes. Something hot twists sharply in his stomach, and it's not like he's ever thought about it _before_ , but the words hit him so fast that it makes him choke on his next moan.

It's a combination of everything - the thought of Mads 'taking care' of him, of each deep, faster thrust and twist of the dildo, of the knowledge that Mads can _see_ him, of _daddy_ \- but Hugh feels pleasure tear through him without permission. He gasps Mads' name like a prayer as he blindly reaches down to wrap his fingers around his cock, but he's coming before he's even touched himself. The touch of his hand just makes it better, and Hugh _writhes_ with a breathless sort of cry as he comes hard, the vibrations feeling so good and intense that it almost hurts.

* * *

Mads is so hard, his own boxers beginning to feel uncomfortable against his straining cock but his entire focus is on getting Hugh to come. Even if they never do this again, the image of Hugh on his knees, his legs spread and his ass taking the dildo so perfectly is going to be seared into his mind. This is definitely something he's going to get off to later, no doubt about that. The vibration is drowned out by the fuck-sounds and Hugh's own vocalizations as Mads ruthlessly works Hugh with it, adjusting the dildo every so of often so that it likely brushes against Hugh's prostate.

Hugh coming is nothing new to Mads, but Hugh coming with a vibrating dildo fucking into his ass _for_ and in front of Mads? It's new and it's exhilarating. And Hugh moans out his name - perfect and broken - and Mads sees Hugh reach under him but he's pretty sure Hugh is coming before his hand even makes contact.

Mads grips Hugh's hip hard, holding him there as his orgasm tears through him. He stops moving the toy, letting it slide inside and stay stationary as Hugh shakes and falls apart. The towel underneath Hugh should help with the cleanup but Mads isn't concerned. Laundry exists for a reason.

"There, good boy, such a good boy," Mads praises warmly.

Is he done with Hugh? No. Mads has more plans and he hopes Hugh is willing to go along with them.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this story? Please consider showing your support/encouragement by leaving a kudo, a comment or reblogging the story on tumblr [here](http://merrythought.tumblr.com/post/170369004268/sugardancy-a-madancy-sugar-daddy-au-story-now). Thanks!


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